God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem-Chapter 648: Kissing Her Peach

Kafka's fingers lingered on Abigaille's purpled ass, tracing the vivid handprints with a gentle touch, his brow furrowed with concern.

"This really looks like it hurts, Mom." He said, his voice soft but probing, pressing lightly against the bruised skin. "Must sting like hell, huh?"

Abigaille's pout deepened, her eyes glistening with a pitiful glint as she nodded, her voice a soft whimper.

"It does, Kafi." She said, her tone almost childlike as she looked back at him, her plump ass still bared under her lifted skirt. "It hurts a lot. Please, do something about it."

Her gaze was pleading, her body leaning slightly toward him, as if his touch alone could soothe the fire in her skin.

Kafka's hand continued its slow caress, his fingers kneading the tender flesh as he thought for a moment, his expression shifting to one of sudden inspiration.

His eyes brightened, a knowing glint sparking in them as he met Abigaille's gaze.

"Why don't we do what I always do after I spank you?" He asked, his voice low and suggestive. "You know, that thing you like so much to ease the pain."

Abigaille blinked, confusion flickering across her face before realization dawned, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson.

The method he hinted at a private, intimate ritual they'd shared in the aftermath of punishments—was something she both cherished and found deeply shameful, especially with Olivia watching.

Her lips parted, ready to agree, her body already warming at the thought, but then her eyes darted to Olivia, who was staring, wide-eyed, at her exposed ass.

Embarrassment surged through her, and she hesitated, her voice trembling. "Kafi, we can't." She whispered, her hands clutching the hem of her skirt. "Olivia's right here—it's too embarrassing!"

Kafka's smile was reassuring, his hand giving her ass a gentle pat as he shook his head.

"Not at all, Mom." He said, his tone calm but firm. "I've already told Mom everything about how things work here, how open we are and she's accepted it all...even the extreme stuff."

His gaze shifted to Olivia, still pressed against his chest, a mischievous spark lit his eyes and to both their shock, he tugged up Olivia's miniskirt, his hand sliding beneath to caress her bare ass, his fingers brushing her skin with a boldness that made her breath catch.

"Hell, she even let me touch her breasts, explored them thoroughly, felt how soft, how firm they are. And she didn't push back, did she?"

"...If that doesn't mean she gets the town's customs, I don't know what is."

Olivia's face burned, a flush spreading from her cheeks to her neck as Kafka's words laid bare their earlier Intimacy. She hadn't expected him to reveal it so brazenly, especially not to Abigaille, and the sudden exposure left her heart pounding, her body tensing against his.

Abigaille's eyes widened, shock flashing across her face as she processed the revelation. She'd suspected Kafka's insatiable nature would draw Olivia in—his lustful pull was unstoppable, a force she knew too well, but she hadn't anticipated he'd move so quickly, so boldly.

A mix of admiration and pity stirred within her, her gaze flickering to Olivia, wondering if her friend was ensnared or simply swept up in the town's strange allure.

Still reeling, Abigaille turned back to Olivia, her voice hesitant but probing.

"Is...Is that true, Liv?" She asked, her eyes searching her friend's face. "Did you really accept the town's customs? Let him...touch your b-breasts, no problem at all?"

The question hung heavy, her own embarrassment mingling with curiosity, a faint hope that Olivia might share the same tangled acceptance she'd come to embrace.

Olivia's throat tightened, her blush deepening as she met Abigaille's gaze, her trembling eyes betraying her nerves. The truth was out, undeniable, and lying felt pointless.

"I-It's...true." She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, her hands fidgeting against Kafka's sides. "I've learned about the open-mindedness here, Abi, the supposed...heritage. It was hard to understand at first, but I'm starting to get it."

She bit her lip, her words rushing out as she tried to clarify, to shield herself from judgment.

"And tell me just tell you that Kafi said he wanted to explore my breasts, said he was curious about why they're so firm for their size."

"...It was just admiration, curiosity, nothing else!"

Her voice carried a defensive tone, as if pleading for Abigaille to see her not as a perverse mother but as one navigating the town's customs with innocent intent.

Abigaille's eyes softened, a wry smile tugging at her lips as she recognized the familiar dance of justification. Olivia's fall into Kafka's web, so swift and complete, was both surprising and oddly comforting, she wasn't alone in succumbing to his charm.

The woman whose icy gaze could once silence a room, now blushing and stammering, was a testament to Kafka's power, and Abigaille felt a pang of camaraderie, even as her own embarrassment lingered.

Olivia, feeling the weight of attention, then shifted the focus, her voice hesitant but sharp.

"Abi, He...He said he touched your breasts too." She said, her eyes locking onto her friend's. "Is that true?"

The question was a deflection, a way to share the spotlight, and Abigaille's cheeks flushed anew, her hands tightening on her skirt.

"It's...true." Abigaille admitted, her voice soft and hesitant. "He said the same thing—wanted to admire them, explore them. I let him, but...it's just our son, you know? It's not...bad."

Her words mirrored Olivia's, a quick justification to ward off taboo implications, and Olivia nodded, seizing on the shared excuse.

"R-Right, exactly." Olivia said, her voice steadier now, as if grasping a lifeline. "It's not bad at all. I mean, every son....breastfeeds from their mother, so they have some contact with her breasts at some point in their lives."

"...This is just the same, isn't it?"

Her words were a desperate rationalization, a way to frame their actions as maternal, innocent, and Abigaille nodded, their agreement a fragile shield against the deeper truths they both avoided.

The two women then locked eyes, their nods a silent pact to justify their surrender to Kafka's touch, to cling to the narrative of familial love rather than face the taboo undercurrents.

Kafka's hand, still caressing Olivia's ass, and his other now resting on Abigaille's hip, anchored them in his web, his smile warm but laced with satisfaction. He watched their exchange, savoring the way they rationalized, the way they leaned into his narrative of the town's customs, each justification drawing them deeper into his control.

And just as both of looked at one another, trying to figure out what one another felt about their son and his actions, Kafka's hands moved with sudden boldness, groping both their asses simultaneously, the firm squeeze snapping their attention back to him.

"Hmm!♡~"

"Hyaaa!♡~"

Olivia's breath caught, her body jerking slightly, while Abigaille's eyes widened, her earlier hesitation overshadowed by his commanding presence.

"See, Mom?" He said to Abigaille, his voice smooth and triumphant, his fingers kneading their flesh. "I told you Mom's comfortable with this. She's fully accustomed to the town's ways now. She knows how intimate we are, how it works and how it's not bad and that it's normal."

"...So there's no reason we can't show her how we treat each other after a good spanking."

Abigaille's lips parted, a flicker of resistance in her eyes, but the truth of his words, coupled with Olivia's earlier confession, left her with no counterargument.

She nodded, her shoulders slumping slightly, her assent a quiet capitulation to the dynamic Kafka had woven.

Olivia, caught in the intensity of his touch, felt a surge of curiosity and unease, her body inching closer to his as she pressed herself against his chest, her voice trembling with urgency.

"Kafi, what do you mean by 'treating her wounds'?" She asked, her eyes darting to Abigaille's still-exposed ass, the purple handprints stark against her brown skin. "How are you going to treat them? Why's Abigaille so hesitant?"

Kafka's smirk was knowing, his hand leaving Olivia's ass to caress her cheek, his fingers brushing her skin with a tenderness that sent a shiver through her.

"It's a pure way to soothe a wound, Mom" He said, his voice low and secretive. "It's even something mothers often do for their kids to make them feel better."

"...But it's sensual, too. Can be seen in a different light. That's why she's hesitating so much."

His words were cryptic, laced with a provocative edge that set Olivia's mind racing, her imagination spiraling with possibilities—taboo, intimate acts that both intrigued and unnerved her.

He then turned to Abigaille, his gaze softening but still commanding.

"You ready to be treated, Mom?" He asked, his hand pulling her hip closer, urging her ass toward him.

Abigaille hesitated, her eyes flicking to Olivia, a flush creeping up her neck, but the weight of his expectation, the promise of relief, won out. She nodded, a small, reluctant gesture, and Kafka's smile widened.

"Good." He said, his voice rich with approval. "Bring your ass closer to my face...Let me do what I need to do."

Olivia's heart lurched, confusion and anticipation knotting in her chest as she watched Abigaille give her one last, fleeting glance, a mix of shame and resignation in her eyes.

And then slowly, Abigaille crouched, her movements careful as she positioned her plump, marked ass near Kafka's face, her black underwear barely containing the spill of her cheeks.

Kafka's hands also found her waist, guiding her with a gentle but firm grip until her ass hovered just inches from his lips, the purple handprints a vivid map of her punishment.

And then to Olivia's utter shock, Kafka leaned forward, his lips brushing Abigaille's ass with tender kisses, starting at the edge of a handprint where the purple met her unblemished skin.

"Peck!♡~ Peck!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Peck!♡~ Lick!♡~"

The act was slow, tender, his lips soft against her flesh, pressing gentle pecks that traced the contours of her cheeks.

"Pucker!♡~ Pucker!♡~ Smooch!♡~ Pucker!♡~ Suck!♡~"

His hands caressed her ass, fingers gliding over the smooth, plump surface, kneading lightly as he planted a trail of kisses, each one lingering, a soft pull of his lips that left a faint sheen on her skin.

"Mmm!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Slurp!♡~"

Abigaille's breath stopped, her body trembling under the tender assault, a quiet moan escaping her as his kisses found the center of a handprint, the sting soothed by the warmth of his mouth, while Olivia watched, her jaw slack, her body frozen in disbelief and a rising, unbidden heat.

"Kiss!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Mwah!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Nibble!♡~"

The taboo of the scene—Kafka's lips on his mother's ass, the way his hands sank into her flesh, groping with a possessive fervor was overwhelming, searing itself into her mind.

"Smooch!♡~ Smooch!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Smooch!♡~ Sip!♡~"

His kisses also grew more fervent, more insistent, his mouth pressing harder against the purpled skin, covering her ass in a cascade of wet, passionate kisses.

"Mwah!♡~ Mwah!♡~ Pucker!♡~ Mwah!♡~ Suck!♡~"

His lips parted, sucking gently on one cheek, his tongue darting out to trace the edge of a handprint, licking the bruised flesh with a slow stroke that made Abigaille gasp, her hips twitching involuntarily.

"Pucker!♡~ Pucker!♡~ Smooch!♡~ Pucker!♡~ Suck!♡~"

The sight was intoxicating, Kafka's tongue gliding over Abigaille's skin, soothing the wounds with a sensual intensity that was both tender and brazenly erotic.

"Mmm!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Slurp!♡~"

His lips molded to her curves, his tongue swirling in lazy circles, tasting the heat of her punished flesh, each lick a provocative caress that sent shivers through Abigaille's body.

"Ahhh!♡~ Noo!♡~ Kafi, not so hard!♡~ Mmm!♡~"

Her moans also grew softer, her head tilting back as she surrendered to the sensation, the taboo act of her son's mouth on her ass melting her resistance, her earlier shame replaced by a quiet, submissive pleasure.

"Kiss!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Mwah!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Nibble!♡~"

Watching all this right in front of her, Olivia's breath came in shallow bursts, her pussy growing wetter with each passing second, a shameful arousal pooling between her thighs as she watched. freeweɓnovel.cøm

Kafka's fervent kisses, Abigaille's surrender, the raw sensuality of it all, stirred something deep within her, a forbidden fascination that clashed with her maternal instincts.

Her body ached, her skin flushing as she imagined herself in Abigaille's place, Kafka's lips on her own ass, soothing marks he'd left.

The thought was electrifying, mortifying, and she clenched her thighs, trying to quell the heat that threatened to consume her...