God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem-Chapter 654: Full Circle

Ding~

[The God of Harvest Ivanova sends a request: Make both of your mothers eat dinner, while sitting on your lap and being in their underwear]

[Successfully fulfill the request and gain the Gods satisfaction and approval]

[Fail the given request and turn into a worm that roams the God of Harvest Ivanova's garden]

Hearing this request, Kafka couldn't help but chuckle seeing as to how the first request he was issued when he came into this word was making Abigaille sit on his lap for dinner.

Now, it had come full circle and he was asked to do the same with Olivia as well which was rather amusing, as it brought him back to the time when this all began.

But he didn't have time to reminisce about the pleasent memories of the past, so he focused on the task on hand as he wondered how he was going to make Olivia strip down all the way to her underwear, especially since there was no way she would do so, since her underwear was probably so wet right now.

That would reveal her true feelings for him which she was desperately trying to hide and would probably make her freak out and have a existential crisis, which was the last thing he wanted right now since he was trying to maintain a delicate balance in their taboo-filled relationship.

"Slap!♡~Slap!♡~ Bang!♡~ Ooh!♡~ Ungh!♡~ Slap!♡~Slap!♡~ Nmm!"

The room vibrated with the lingering echoes of their clapping. Abigaille and Olivia's hips swayed, their plump asses jiggling against Kafka's thighs, each wet slap a testament to their surrender.

But suddenly, Kafka's hands descended, firm and commanding, pressing down on their cheeks to still their movements.

The abrupt halt made both women gasp, their bodies trembling as they looked up at him, their eyes wide with anticipation. His gaze, dark and playful, swept over them, a smirk tugging at his lips as he spoke, his voice a teasing rumble that sent a flush creeping up their necks.

"Hold on, you two..." He said, his tone laced with amusement. "If you keep shaking those gorgeous asses like that, you're gonna wake the whole neighborhood."

"...They'll be wondering why the clapping's been going on for so long, trying to figure out what kind of party's happening over here."

His smirk widened, his eyes glinting with mischief as both women blushed furiously, the implication of his joke hitting them like a wave.

"Alright, alright..." Kafka continued, his hands stroking their now-still asses with gentle, possessive caresses, his fingers tracing the curves with a tenderness that contrasted his earlier dominance. "Let's calm those beautiful cheeks down for a bit...Just press them against me, nice and still."

His voice was soothing, a command wrapped in warmth, and both women obeyed, settling their weight against him, their asses nestled firmly against his thighs, the intimacy of the contact making their pulses race.

He then leaned back, his hands lingering on their curves, stroking slowly as he shifted the mood.

"It's time for dinner." He said, his tone practical but still laced with that undeniable authority. "If we wait any longer, the food's gonna get cold. And Mom, you must be starving after that long drive over here...You need to eat, don't you?"

His eyes flicked to her, catching the faint flicker of disappointment that crossed her face as she heard that she would have to get up.

She'd been so comfortable, pressed against her son, his warmth and strength enveloping her, and the thought of leaving this position of breaking the spell of their closeness, sent a pang of reluctance through her.

Kafka's sharp gaze didn't miss it. His lips curled into a knowing smile, and he tilted his head, his voice dropping to a teasing lilt.

"What's that look, Mom? You really that sad to leave me like this?...Don't tell me you're already so attached to being my little cuddle bug."

His words were playful, but they hit their mark, and Olivia's face flushed crimson, her heart stuttering as she waved her hands frantically.

"N-No, not at all!" She blurted, her voice high-pitched with panic, her eyes wide as she tried to deflect. "I'm fine, Kafi, really! I'm not...I mean, I'm hungry, let's go eat!"

Her words tumbled out, a desperate attempt to hide the truth that she craved the feel of his body against hers, the safety of his embrace, the thrill of his touch.

Abigaille, ever the instigator, let out a soft, melodic laugh, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned closer, her breasts still pressed against Kafka's side.

"Oh, Liv, it's okay to feel that way." She teased, her voice a sultry purr. "Don't be shy. I feel it too, you know. I don't want to leave this spot either."

"...I could stay like this all night, snuggled up with our Kafi, feeling his hands on me, his warmth...it's perfect."

She sighed dreamily, her hips shifting slightly, pressing her ass harder against Kafka's thigh.

Kafka also chuckled in response, his hands sliding up to cup their cheeks—one of Abigaille's, one of Olivia's his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he groped them gently, making both women whimper.

"You two...." He said, shaking his head, his voice a blend of fondness and mock exasperation. "I don't want to get up either, you know. I could sit here forever, hugging my two beautiful mothers, groping these fat, perfect asses, watching you both melt under my touch."

His fingers tightened, eliciting soft gasps from them, their bodies trembling at the sensation.

"But we can't act like kids, indulging every little want. We've got to eat since that food's not gonna stay warm forever."

Abigaille's lips formed a playful pout, her eyes glinting with reluctance.

"But Kafi..." She whined, her voice dripping with exaggerated petulance. "...this is so much better than dinner. Why can't we just stay here, hmm? You, me, Olivia, all cozy like this?"

She wiggled her hips, her ass pressing against him in a teasing bid to sway him.

Olivia, though silent, felt the same tug of disappointment. Kafka's hands on her ass, the way his fingers kneaded her flesh, had become a comfort she hadn't expected to crave.

The thought of standing, of breaking this connection, left her chest tight, though she fought to keep her face neutral, not wanting to betray the depth of her longing.

Kafka's eyes softened, catching the subtle shifts in their expressions.

"Alright, alright..." He said, his voice warm with understanding. "If you're both so reluctant to move, we don't have to give this up completely."

"How about this? We eat dinner, but you both sit on my lap. Same closeness, same intimacy, just with food...Perfect, right?"

His grin was harmless, but the glint in his eyes was anything but innocent, promising more of the possessive touch they'd grown to crave.

Abigaille's face lit up, her eyes glowing with excitement as she clapped her hands together.

"Oh, Kafi, that's brilliant!" She exclaimed, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "Dinner on your lap? That's the perfect way to eat! I can cuddle you, feed you, keep you nice and close...oh, I love it!"

She leaned in, pressing a quick, playful kiss to his cheek, making the air around her hum with sensuality.

Olivia, meanwhile, felt her cheeks heat at the thought.

Sitting on her son's lap while they ate?

The image flipped her memories upside down—years ago, she was the one cradling him, feeding him as a baby, his small body nestled against hers.

Now, the roles were reversed, and the idea of being the one held, cuddled, made her stomach flutter with a bit of embarrassment and taboo thrill.

Kafka's hand then came out of nowhere and snapped her out of her daze, as he delivered a firm, playful slap to both their asses, the sharp cracks pulling squeals from their lips.

"Up, you two." He said, his voice firm but laced with affection. "Get moving now, or I'm gonna lose my motivation too, and that food will go to waste. We can't have that, can we?" His tone left no room for argument, and with reluctant sighs, Abigaille and Olivia began to move.

Abigaille slid off first, her movements graceful despite the pout on her lips, standing with a sway of her hips that made her exposed ass jiggle. Olivia followed, more hesitant, her legs shaky as she rose.

As she stood, Olivia felt a rush of mortification—her miniskirt had ridden up all they way during their earlier frenzy, bunched around her hips, revealing the full curve of her buttocks, barely covered by her underwear. Her cleavage, too, spilled out of her top, the fabric stretched and displaced from all the movement.

She glanced at Abigaille, who was in a similar state, her skirt hiked up, her brown cheeks on full display, the cool air brushing against their exposed skin.

Olivia's hands moved instinctively to tug her skirt down, her face burning as she tried to cover herself. Abigaille mirrored her, reaching for her own hem, a faint shiver running through her at the breeze on her skin.

But before either could adjust, Kafka's voice cut through, sharp and commanding, stopping them in their tracks.

"Don't..." He said, his eyes fixed on their exposed curves as he lounged on the sofa, his gaze raking over them with unabashed appreciation. "Leave it like that. It's a damn nice sight—both of you, half-dressed, those gorgeous asses out for me to see. It's...delicious." His lips curved into a wicked smile, his voice dripping with hunger. "Don't you dare cover up."

Abigaille paused, her hand hovering over her skirt, then let it fall, a coy smile spreading across her face.

"Oh, Kafi..." She purred, her fingers brushing her exposed cheek as she pouted dramatically. "It's so cold, though! My poor butt's freezing out here."

Her tone was teasing, her eyes glinting with mischief as she shifted her weight, making her ass jiggle for his benefit.

Kafka was on his feet in an instant, moving quickly to stand between them. His hands found their asses again, one on each, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he began to rub, warming their skin with each slow, possessive stroke.

"Cold, huh?" He murmured, his voice a low growl, his eyes flicking between them. "Does it feel cold now? If it's still chilly, I can keep my hands right here, rubbing these perfect cheeks as long as you need...How's that sound?"

Abigaille's eyes fluttered, a sultry moan escaping her lips as she leaned into his touch, her body arching slightly.

"Mmm, Kafi." She breathed, her voice thick with desire. "You're such a good son. Warming your mother up like this? I could get used to it." Her hips swayed, pressing her ass harder into his hand.

Olivia, caught in the same spell, felt her resolve crumble. His hand on her ass, kneading her flesh so openly, sent waves of heat through her, her body betraying her with a rush of arousal.

She also leaned into him, her cheek brushing his shoulder, unable to resist the pull of his touch.

"Kafi..." She whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling with a need she couldn't name. "You...You don't have to..."

But her words trailed off, her body melting under his grip, her embarrassment drowned by the comfort of his dominance.

Kafka chuckled, his hands still working their magic, his fingers dipping just beneath the edge of their underwear, teasing the sensitive skin.

"That's it, you two..." He said, his voice rich with satisfaction. "Let me take care of you."

"...Now, let's go have dinner like I promised and have a night that both of you won't ever forget."

His grin was both a promise and a command, and as he guided them toward the dining room, his hands never leaving their exposed curves, Olivia and Abigaille followed, their hearts racing with the thrill of what was to come...