God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem-Chapter 650: He Can’t Breathe!

Kafka's hands gripped Abigaille's hips, his fingers sinking into her soft flesh as he leaned into her, his face buried deep between her cheeks, the muffled hum of his pleasure vibrating against her skin.

And finally when he seemed to done with kissing his mother's ass, he pulled back just enough to plant one final, lingering kiss on her purpled ass, his lips wet and warm, sucking gently at the bruised skin before releasing it with a soft, obscene pop.

His tongue flicked out, tracing a sensual circle around the handprint, leaving her glistening as he caressed her brown, voluptuous curves with a tenderness that made her moan softly.

"All good now, Mom?" He asked, his voice low and velvety, his fingers kneading her ass as he looked up at her, eyes glinting with care and mischief. "Is your butt fine, or do you want more kisses to make up for it?"

Abigaille turned, her gaze meeting his with a radiant, unashamed glow, her lips curling into a coy smile.

"I'd never say no to more of your kisses, Kafi dear."

She purred, her voice thick with desire, her shamelessness staggering Olivia, who watched, wide-eyed, as Abigaille leaned into the moment.

"But it's okay now." She added, her tone softening, warm with gratitude. "After all that love, it barely hurts anymore. Feels...so good, honestly. Better than any sort of ointment or ice would have felt."

Her words were a clear sign to Kafka's effect, her body relaxed, her bruised ass now a source of pleasure rather than pain, the purple marks a badge of his devotion.

Hearing this, Kafka's grin flashed, a spark of playfulness breaking through his tenderness as he gave her ass a light, teasing slap, the sound sharp but gentle, making her cheeks jiggle enticingly.

"Glad you're feeling better, Mom." He said, his voice rich with satisfaction, his hand lingering on her skin. "I was a bit worried I went too hard on you."

His tone carried a hint of remorse, but the smirk that followed betrayed a deeper intent, his other hand squeezing Olivia's ass, grounding her in the charged moment.

"But, you know..." He continued, his voice dropping to a sultry drawl. "I worked hard to make you feel good and because of that my lips, my tongue they're practically aching from all that effort."

He pouted his lips, pointing to them with a dramatic flourish, the gesture both playful and provocative.

"So, I think I've earned a reward for all that work, don't you? You know, the usual one you give me with that perfect ass of yours."

Abigaille's face flushed a deep scarlet, her eyes widening as she caught the meaning behind his words, a rush of excitement mingling with embarrassment. Olivia, however, was adrift, her brow creasing as she leaned closer, her body pressed tightly against Kafka's, her voice trembling with curiosity.

"Reward? What's that supposed to mean, Kafi?" She asked, her gaze darting between him and Abigaille, her heart pounding as she sensed another taboo boundary looming. "What's this 'usual' thing you're talking about? What does her...ass have to do with it?"

Her questions spilled out, urgent and tinged with apprehension, her body already warm from the earlier spectacle, her mind bracing for what came next.

Kafka's smile was enigmatic, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he looked at Abigaille, who was blushing fiercely, her hands fidgeting with her skirt, still lifted to expose her curves.

"Mom here will show you, won't you, Mom?" He said, his voice smooth and coaxing, his gaze locking onto hers with a quiet command. "Go on, give me my reward, let Mom see what I'm talking about."

His words were a gentle push, his tone leaving little room for refusal, and Olivia's anticipation surged, her eyes fixed on Abigaille, waiting to witness the next unthinkable act.

Abigaille hesitated, her gaze flickering to Olivia, her cheeks burning as she bit her lip, the weight of her friend's stare amplifying her unease.

"Kafi, I...I don't know." She stammered, her voice soft, her hands clutching her skirt tighter.

The intimacy of what he was asking, the audacity of performing it in front of Olivia, made her heart race, her body caught between shame and the pull of Kafka's will. But his voice came again, low and soothing, his eyes softening into a pitiful plea that tugged at her heartstrings.

"Come on, Mom." He murmured, leaning closer, his hand brushing her hip with a tender touch. "I went all out to soothe your pain, kissing you like that, making you feel better. If you can't even do this for your son, after everything I've done..."

His words trailed off, his gaze imploring, and Abigaille's resistance melted, her love for him overriding her embarrassment, her body yielding to his subtle manipulation.

With a shy glance at Olivia, Abigaille turned away, unable to hold her friend's gaze, and positioned herself directly in front of Kafka. Her movements were slow and hesitant as she lifted her skirt higher, the black underwear straining against her plump, brown ass, the purple handprints still vivid.

Then, to Olivia's utter shock...she lowered herself, her ass descending until it pressed fully against Kafka's face, her cheeks enveloping his features in a warm, soft embrace.

Sit~

The sight was overwhelming—Abigaille's fat ass smothering Kafka's face, his head lost in the plush expanse of her cheeks, the black underwear stretched taut, barely containing her curves.

Her body settled fully, her weight pressing down, a soft, sultry moan escaping her as she adjusted, the sensation of his face against her most intimate flesh sending a shiver of pleasure through her.

"Mmm!♡~ Nnnn!♡~"

Kafka's hands gripped her hips, his fingers sinking into her skin, steadying her as he leaned into the act, his breath hot against her, the muffled sound of his contentment barely audible beneath the weight of her ass, while Abigaille's body trembled, her hips shifting slightly, grinding subtly against his face, the taboo thrill of the act making her skin flush, her core tightening with a forbidden ecstasy.

Olivia's heart thundered, her body frozen as she stared, her mind staggering at the audacity of it all. freēwēbnovel.com

She'd thought Kafka's kisses on Abigaille's ass were the pinnacle of taboo, but this—Abigaille sitting on his face, her ass engulfing him completely, his obvious pleasure in the act was beyond anything she could have imagined.

Her voice erupted, a flurry of shock and confusion, her hands clutching Kafka's sides as she leaned forward, her eyes wide.

"A-Abi, what in the world are you doing?" She demanded, her voice quaking, her gaze locked on the surreal scene. "You're sitting on his face!"

"...There's a whole sofa right there if you want to sit somewhere, so of all the places to sit why are you sitting our son's face?! And is he okay under there? Can he breathe?!"

Her panic surged, her eyes darting to Kafka's buried face, a sudden fear gripping her that he was struggling to breathe, that something catastrophic was unfolding.

"Get up, Abigaille, please! He's probably suffocating—you have to move, right now!"

Abigaille's cheeks burned, her body tensing at Olivia's frantic words, but she remained seated, her ass firmly pressed against Kafka's face, her hands gripping her thighs for balance. She then turned to Olivia, her expression shy but steady, her voice soft and laced with a quiet confidence that belied her blush.

"It's not about sitting, Olivia." She said, her eyes meeting her friend's with a flicker of defiance. "This isn't just finding a place to rest...It's his reward, something special for him. That's all it is."

Her words were direct, her blush deepening as she spoke, her body shifting slightly, making her ass jiggle against Kafka's face, a soft moan escaping her as his tongue flicked briefly against her skin, a muffled hum of pleasure rising from beneath her.

Olivia's eyes widened further, her voice faltering as she tried to comprehend.

"Reward? What kind of reward is this?" She asked, her tone sharp with disbelief, her body trembling with a heat she couldn't suppress. "I mean, you're...you're smothering him, Abigaille! It looks like you're punishing him—he can't even breathe!"

She gestured wildly, her panic flaring as she imagined Kafka gasping for air, her hands tightening on his sides.

"Please, get up! This isn't right—something bad's going to happen if you don't move!"

Her fear was obvious, her body trembling as she imagined Kafka suffocating, her maternal instincts warring with the strange, undeniable heat stirring within her.

Abigaille, however, remained seated, her ass firmly pressed against Kafka's face, her body relaxed. She then turned to Olivia, her cheeks flushed but her expression serene, a quiet confidence in her eyes that belied the audacity of the act, as she decided to help her son out by making Olivia believe that there really was nothing wrong with what they were doing.

"Olivia, relax." She said, her voice smooth and reassuring, tinged with a playful tone. "You've seen how Kafi is by now, haven't you? He's...well, let's just say he's got a thing for women like us—plump, curvy, soft."

Her lips curved into a knowing smile, her hands resting on her thighs as she spoke, her ass still enveloping Kafka's face, his hands gripping her hips tighter, as if savoring every second.

Olivia blinked, a flicker of pride swelling in her chest at the compliment, the acknowledgment of her own curves, but her confusion held firm.

"What...What does that have to do with this?" She asked, her voice quavering, her eyes darting between Abigaille's serene face and Kafka's submerged form. "I mean, sure, he's been...touchy, praising my body, groping me, but...sitting on his face? That's...that's something else entirely!"

Abigaille's smile widened, a wry glint in her eyes as she leaned forward slightly, her ass shifting against Kafka's. face, drawing a muffled hum of pleasure from him.

"Exactly, Liv." She said, her tone light, as if explaining a quirky habit. "It's because he loves soft things, always has. You've felt how he touches you, right? How he can't keep his hands off?"

"Well, after all that time squeezing my ass, he figured out it's like...a pillow, you know? So soft, so squishy, just perfect. And one day, he told me he wanted to feel it on his face, like a pillow, said it'd be the ultimate comfort."

She paused, her blush deepening, but her voice remained steady, unapologetic.

"So, from time to time, he asks me to sit on him like this. Calls it a 'heavenly massage,' says it's the softest, warmest thing he's ever felt. He just loves being my...seat, wants my ass on his face as much as he can get it."

Olivia's jaw dropped, a gulp escaping her as she processed Abigaille's words, the sheer immorality of it staggering her. Her son, her Kafi, indulging in such an extreme act, craving his mother's ass on his face like it was a luxury?

The thought sent a shiver through her, her mind screaming that this was wrong, yet her body responding with a throbbing heat that left her lightheaded.

"You're...You're serious, Abi?" She stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes wide as she stared at Abigaille. "You're not joking? Kafi really...asks for this? Sits under you like that because he likes it?"

Abigaille's smile turned wry, a soft chuckle escaping her as she shook her head, her ass still pressed firmly against Kafka's face, his hands kneading her hips with a possessive motion.

"Would I joke about something like this, Olivia?" She asked, her tone teasing but sincere, her eyes glinting with a bit of amusement and pride. "It's just how he is. Ever since he came to this town, he's been...different, so open-minded about relationships, about us."

"And, you know, he felt guilty for all those years he kept his distance from us, pushed us away. So, in his mind, this..." She gestured to her ass, still smothering Kafka's face. "...this is him making up for it, getting as close as he can, soaking up all the intimacy he missed out on."

"...To him, this is nothing, just...love, you know? He wants to make up for every hug, every kiss, every moment he turned away."

Olivia's breath caught, a sudden clarity washing over her as Abigaille's words sank in.

Kafka, her son, was chasing the closeness he'd rejected in his youth, all those hugs and head-pats and cheek kisses he'd shied away from, now returning in this twisted, taboo form.

What he saw as familial love, as making up for lost time, manifested in acts so extreme they defied comprehension, acts that screamed of forbidden desire.

Her heart ached with a strange blend of sorrow and understanding, yet the sight before her, Abigaille's ass engulfing Kafka's face, his obvious pleasure stirred a wild excitement, a curiosity that burned hotter with every second.

"So...he's just...making up for the past?" She asked, her voice trembling, her eyes flickering to Kafka's buried face, then back to Abigaille. "But...this? It's so...much. A-And how often do you even do this?"

Abigaille's expression softened, a shy flush creeping up her cheeks as she shifted again, her ass grinding subtly against Kafka's face, drawing another muffled moan from him.

"It's not...every day or anything." She said, her voice quiet but honest, her eyes meeting Olivia's with a flicker of vulnerability. "It's usually just when he's tired, stressed, or needs to unwind. He says it's like...a hot pack, you know? Something soft and warm on his face, soothing him, calming him down."

"...He'll come to me after a long day, all worn out, and ask me to sit on his chest, or...like this, on his face. Says it's the best way to relax, better than any massage or bath."

She paused, her smile turning playful, though her blush lingered.

"I thought it was crazy at first, too, but...he loves it, Liv. You can tell, can't you? He's practically purring under there."

Olivia nodded slowly, her mind spinning at the thought of such an bizarre method of relaxation, her gaze dropping to Kafka, his face still submerged in Abigaille's ass, his hands gripping her hips with a contented ease.

The image was surreal, yet the muffled sounds of his pleasure, the way his fingers dug into her flesh, confirmed Abigaille's words.

Still, a flicker of worry lingered, and she looked back at Abigaille, her voice hesitant, almost apologetic.

"But...is he really okay under there? I mean, no offense, Abigaille, but...you've got a really...generous ass. If someone's face is in there, how can they breathe? I'm just saying this since...I-I don't want him to get hurt."

Her concern was genuine, her eyes darting to Kafka's buried form, wondering if her son was actually going to pass away on the first day she was on back home from suffocating under his own mother's fat ass...