God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem-Chapter 581: Taboo Roleplay

The faint milk stains on his shirt glistened under the dim lobby light, clear evidence to Nina's triumph, but now his focus was locked on the pale, voluptuous woman stepping forward with a defiant tilt of her chin.

Camila's plump, pale breasts swayed slightly as she moved, her pink nipples already pert and eager, a flush creeping up her neck as she met his gaze head-on.

"Alright, hotshot." Camila said, her voice brimming with a mix of bravado and anticipation as she planted her hands on her hips, thrusting her chest out slightly. "You got Nina squirting like a damn fountain—let's see if you can work the same magic on me."

"...I'm not about to let her steal all the glory here. These girls deserve a shot too, don't they?" She gave her breasts a little shake, her tone teasing but her eyes flickering with genuine curiosity and a hint of nerves.

Nina, still glowing from her victory, leaned against a chair with a playful smirk, her arms crossed under her breasts as she watched. "Go on, Camila—show him what you've got." She called out, her voice light and encouraging. "But don't expect it to be easy—I set the bar pretty high, didn't I? The Milk queen's watching!" She winked, her earlier exhaustion replaced by a bubbly pride as she settled in to enjoy the show.

Abigaille hovered nearby, her breasts rising and falling with each shallow breath, her hands twisting nervously as she murmured. "Oh, Camila...Be careful—Kafi He's...He's a bit intense today. But I hope it works for you too—it'd be so wonderful if you both could…" Her voice trailed off, her eyes darting between Kafka and Camila with a mix of apprehension and quiet excitement.

"Don't worry about me, Abi, I can handle him." Camila shot Abigaille a quick grin, her confidence unwavering as she turned back to Kafka. "Let's do this, Kafka—show me what you've got."

"...Make these babies sing, huh?"

She arched her back slightly, offering her breasts to him with a bold, inviting gesture, her pale skin glowing under the soft light.

Kafka met Camila's grin with a sly, knowing smile of his own, his eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and intent. "Alright, Camila, you're in for it now." He said, his voice low and sly. "But this time, I'm switching things up."

"...No more nipple focus now. Let's give those gorgeous breasts the attention they deserve..."

"...And I also I read that the more turned on you are, the better it'll be to enable your lactation—more blood flow, more heat, more everything..."

"...And don't worry, I know exactly how to get you there." He said knowing exactly what kind of things he had to say and do to excite Camila, even though they were a bit taboo in nature.

And to do so, he stepped closer, his tone shifting into something warmer, more intimate, as he leaned in and let his words take on a playful, forbidden edge.

"Look at you, all grown up now, baby girl." He murmured, his gaze lingering on her chest. "I swear, those breasts of yours have come a long way since you were just my little girl...Remember how small they used to be? Barely anything to hold onto."

"...Now? Goddamn, you've filled out so much—makes a father proud to see his daughter turn into such a woman."

His hands hovered just above her skin, not quite touching yet, letting the anticipation build as he leaned into the taboo roleplay he knew she absolutely craved, his voice dripping with just the right amount of affection and tease.

Camila's bravado faltered for a split second as Kafka's words sank in, her cheeks flushing a faint pink. She blinked rapidly, caught off guard by the sudden shift into this intimate, fatherly tone.

"W-Wait, what?" She stammered, her voice cracking slightly as she tried to process the unexpected direction.

But then she caught the way he was looking at her—those solemn, approving eyes, warm and steady, like he really meant every word.

Something clicked, and the fluster melted into a slow, delighted grin as she realized just how much she liked it and excited she became whenever anything taboo came into play.

"Oh, you're good, Kafka." She murmured, her confidence creeping back as she leaned into the roleplay. "And if that's how you want to play, I'll gladly oblige."

She then tilted her head, batting her lashes up at him, and let her voice drop into a softer, more playful lilt like she had returned decades to the past when she was still a young girl.

"Okay, Daddy." She said, loud enough for the others to hear, her tone dripping with a mix of tease and genuine excitement. "Guess I've been a good girl growing up for you, huh?"

Hearing this absurd and childish proclamation from Camila who was usually the maturest in the group, Abigaille's jaw dropped slightly, her eyes widening as she exchanged a quick, stunned glance with Nina, who looked equally thrown.

"D-Did she just—?" Abigaille whispered, barely audible, while Nina's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a surprised laugh.

Neither had expected Camila to dive in so fully, but the shock on their faces only seemed to egg her on as she kept her gaze locked on Kafka, fully committed now.

Kafka's lips curled into a pleased smirk as Camila leaned into the roleplay, her 'Daddy' ringing out with just the right mix of mischief and sincerity.

"That's my girl." He said, his voice rich with approval as he finally let his hands settle lightly on her shoulders, guiding her gently into position. "I always knew you'd turn out perfect—look at you now, making Daddy proud." His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down her arms, stopping just short of her chest, teasing the moment out as he held her gaze.

Camila giggled, a little breathless now, fully caught up in the dynamic. "Well, I had to grow up big and strong for you, didn't I, Daddy?" She teased, as she pressed herself forward, her voice a sultry purr.

"You gonna take care of me now, Daddy?" She asked, her eyes glinting with anticipation, her body practically buzzing with the thrill of the roleplay.

This chapter is updat𝓮d by freēnovelkiss.com.

Kafka chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through the air between them. "Hold your horses, sweetheart." He said, his hands hovering just above her skin, teasing her with the promise of contact. "Don't get too hasty now. Daddy's gonna get there, but first...I just wanna take a good, long look at my little girl's breasts."

"...I mean just look how big they've gotten over the years—damn near a miracle, huh?" His hands finally descended, cupping her generously, his fingers splaying wide as he groped her with a slow, appreciative squeeze.

"I'm not joking, Camila, it wasn't that long ago you barely had any buds on that chest of yours. Flat as a board, running around without a care. And now?" He squeezed again, a little harder this time, his thumbs brushing the sides as he marveled. "Now you've got so much they're practically spilling out of my hands. Overflowing, even. Can't even hold all of you anymore—my little girl's all grown up."

Camila let out a soft, needy whimper, her body arching into his touch as she soaked in every word. She bit her lip, her voice dropping into a lewd, sultry tone as she played along, her eyes locked on his.

"Oh, Daddy, you have no idea how it all happened." She said, her words dripping with a mix of nostalgia and heat, as she recalled memories from her actual school days. "I started noticing the changes back at the start of high school, you know? Just these little hints at first—tiny swells that barely showed under my shirts. I'd catch myself in the mirror and think, 'Huh, something's different."

"But then the next year hit, and bam—they just exploded out of nowhere. Like, one summer I'm still this flat little kid, and by sophomore year, I'm lugging these big, heavy things around. Couldn't hide them even if I tried."

She shifted closer, pressing herself more firmly into his hands, her voice growing huskier as she leaned into the memory.

"It was such a mess, too. Bras didn't fit right—I'd spill out of everything, straps digging into my shoulders cause they weren't made for girls like me yet."

"Gym class? Torture. Running around with these bouncing everywhere, feeling every eye on me...And it wasn't just the boys, either—girls, too. Teachers, even. I'd walk down the hall, and it was like I had a spotlight on my chest. Couldn't escape it."

"Boys tripping over themselves and the girls—half of them jealous, half of them staring just as hard. I'd catch them looking in the locker room, pretending they weren't. It made me so damn self-conscious at first, but then...I kinda started liking it. Knowing I had something they wanted so much."

Kafka grinned wider, his hands kneading her flesh with a slow, deliberate rhythm as he listened, his eyes dark with appreciation.

"Of course they couldn't look away, baby girl." He said, his voice a rough growl now, thick with lewd pride. "You've got milkers the size of these—fuck, they're goddamn showstoppers. Who wouldn't stare? Boys, girls, doesn't matter—they're all helpless when you're walking around with a rack this full, this perfect."

"Bet you drove 'em all crazy back then, didn't you? Strutting through those halls, letting them bounce just enough to make jaws drop."

"...And now here you are, letting Daddy get a front—row seat to all that hard work. These beauties deserve every bit of attention they get."

Camila's eyes fluttered half-closed, a sly, needy smile tugging at her lips as she pressed herself closer, her voice dropping into a sultry, almost desperate whisper.

"I didn't care about their attention, Daddy." She said, her tone thick with longing. "All those stares, those whispers —I didn't give a damn about any of 'em. Boys drooling, girls glaring it didn't mean a thing to me."

"...The only attention I ever wanted was yours, Daddy. Just you looking at me...at my breasts...like they were made for you. I'd catch myself thinking about it, you know? Wondering what it'd feel like to have my father's eyes on me, really seeing me."

"...That's all I ever cared about."

Kafka's grin widened, a dark, appreciative edge to it as he tilted his head, his gaze going over her with exaggerated slowness. "Listen to you." He drawled, his voice low and teasing, laced with mock disbelief. "Here I thought you were my pristine little princess—all elegant and proper, gliding around like some untouchable angel."

"...But you're a dirty girl, aren't you? So damn filthy under all that grace, wanting your own father to look at you like this, to touch you like this."

He bent down, his breath hot against her skin as his lips hovered just above her chest, teasing her with the nearness.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he closed the distance, his mouth latching onto her breast, sucking gently at first, then harder, his tongue flicking against her as he groaned into her flesh.

"Ahhh!♡~ Daddy!♡~ Mmm!♡~"

Camila gasped, a sharp, excited sound that melted into a moan as her hands flew to his shoulders, gripping him tight.

"Oh, Daddy—yes!♡~" She breathed, her voice trembling with arousal as she threw herself deeper into the roleplay, her words spilling out in a frantic, lust-drenched rant. "I couldn't help it, you know? I tried—I swear I tried to be good, to not think about you like that—but how could I not?"

"You're so fucking cool, so handsome, standing there like some kinda god I couldn't look away from. I'd watch you, Daddy, all those little things you did that made my heart race."

"Like when you'd carry me on your shoulders at the park, even when I was getting too big for it, just cause I begged you to...Or that time you stayed up all night fixing my bike after I crashed it, just so I wouldn't miss that race with my friends."

She stated memories she actually had with Kafka like when she went piggy back riding with him in the park date or the time Kafka taught her how to ride a bike and changed them to her favour. She then continued saying,

"...You'd grin at me, all sweaty and proud, and I'd feel my stomach flip—like, how could I not fall for you?"

Her fingers dug into him as his mouth worked her breast, her body squirming under the heat of his touch.

"And the way you treated me." She went on, her voice rising with a mix of adoration and desperation. "It was different, wasn't it? Not like the others. You'd call me your princess, your special girl—always made me feel like I was the only one that mattered."

"Like when you'd sneak me extra dessert after dinner, winking at me while everyone else got mad, or how you'd sit with me for hours, listening to me ramble about stupid school drama like it was the most important thing in the world."

"...You cherished me, Daddy—spoiled me rotten—and I couldn't help it. I'd lie awake at night, thinking about you, about how I wanted you to see me...really see me. Not just as your little girl anymore, but like this—grown up, full, ready for you."

Kafka pulled back just enough to look up at her, his lips glistening, his eyes dark with hunger.

"My dirty little princess." He murmured, his voice rough with approval as he squeezed her other breast, rolling it in his palm. "Falling for your old man because he fixed your bike and gave you extra ice cream? You're a mess, sweetheart—a beautiful, twisted mess."

"...But who am I to say that you're a mess when I'm sucking on these perfect tits like I've wanted to for years. You've got me wrapped around your finger, don't you?...Always did."

He dove back in, his mouth claiming her again, more insistent now, as his free hand slid up her side, anchoring her against him.

Camila's head tipped back, a throaty laugh spilling out between her gasps. "Oh, Daddy, you have no idea." She purred, her voice dripping with delight. "Wrapped around my finger? Good—because I've been dreaming about this forever."

"Every time you hugged me too tight, every time you'd pick me up and spin me around, I'd feel these stupid butterflies and think, 'God, if he only knew what I wanted'."

She echoed her own words, then let them spill out further, dark and unrestrained.

"All those dirty little fantasies I'd spin up in my head, Daddy—stuff I'd never say out loud till now. Like those normal days that'd twist into something else."

"...You'd be helping me with homework at the kitchen table, all focused and serious, and I'd imagine you getting fed up with my whining—ripping my top right off, buttons popping everywhere, and just...going for it. Sucking my breasts like you couldn't hold back anymore, your hands all over me."

"..Or when I'd sass you too much, and I'd picture you bending me over your knee, spanking my ass red till I begged you to stop—or didn't. Sometimes it'd go darker—full—on fucking me right there on the floor, no hesitation, just raw and messy cause I pushed you too far."

Her words hung in the air, and across the room Nina's face flushed a deeper red as she heard it all, her eyes wide as she clutched Abigaille's arm.

"Holy shit...Just what kind of filth is she spewing." Nina whispered, barely audible, her voice a mix of shock and reluctant fascination.

Abigaille's cheeks were also practically glowing, her mouth parted in disbelief as she stared at Camila, who was too lost in her rant to notice their reactions.

"C-Camila...She's becoming unhinged...W-What should we do?"

Abi muttered, her hand pressing against her own chest like she could shield herself from the escalating heat of the scene.