God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem-Chapter 662: Irresistible Love

As Olivia stood in her own puddle, her mind churned with questions, a torrent of confusion, shame, and curiosity threatening to overwhelm her.

Abigaille's promise to discuss their family dynamic later offered a lifeline, a chance to unravel the complexities of their bond, but one question burned brighter than the rest, demanding an answer now.

What did Kafka feel about this?

Was he as innocent as he seemed, or did he harbor the same forbidden desires that tormented her and Abigaille?

The thought of her son reciprocating her feelings was a double-edged sword—thrilling in its intensity, but terrifying in its implications, as she could bear the burden of her own taboo desires, hide them behind the facade of maternal love.

But if Kafka felt the same, it could ruin him, taint his view of women, trap him in a cycle of unnatural longing and as his mother, she couldn't allow that, no matter the cost to her own heart.

Swallowing hard, Olivia looked down at Kafka, his gaze fixed on the puddle beneath her, his expression one of fascination.

"Kafi..." She said softly, her voice trembling as she called his attention. When his eyes met hers, wide and innocent, she steeled herself, her tone gentle but probing. "This...what we just did...don't you feel weird about it?"

"Touching your mothers like that, massaging such...sensitive parts, places no son would ever touch?"

"It's not exactly normal, Kafi and I want to know do you feel about it? I know the town's open-minded, but...do you have any other feelings, any other intentions when you do this?"

Her words were careful, a veiled attempt to unearth his true emotions, to see if he shared the desires she feared would destroy him.

Kafka's eyes met hers, and for a moment, she glimpsed a flicker of understanding, a depth that suggested he knew exactly what she was asking.

He recognized the fragility of the moment, the risk of revealing the truth—that his actions, though cloaked in innocence, were driven by a desire as potent as hers.

But he also saw her fear, her readiness to reject any confession that crossed the line.

The bond they'd built was too new, too delicate, to withstand such a revelation.

So, with a calculated softness, he tilted his head, his expression one of earnest confusion, his voice a gentle deflection.

"What?" He said, his voice laced with genuine confusion, his eyes searching hers. "Why're you asking that, Mom? I was just helping you out, like you and Mom asked."

"...Giving you a massage to make you feel better—what's wrong with that?"

He straightened slightly, his hands still resting on their hips, his tone earnest.

"I'm just happy to make you feel good, to take away your pain. That's all I want—seeing you satisfied, knowing I helped my moms."

"...Isn't that what you meant? Those are the feelings I've got, the ones you're asking about, right?"

His words were so sincere, his gaze so open, that Olivia felt a wave of relief crash over her, her shoulders sagging as the fear gripping her heart loosened its hold.

He was Innocent, untouched by the taboo desires that plagued her.

The bizarre acts they'd committed were, to him, an extension of his love, a way to serve his mothers, not a sign of deeper, forbidden longing.

The realization was a breath of relief, soothing her guilt, though a small part of her couldn't shake the strangeness of his comfort with such intimate acts. Still, she clung to his innocence, desperate to believe he was untainted by the desires she and Abigaille wrestled with.

Abigaille, sensing the shift in Olivia's demeanor, leaned closer, her breath warm against Olivia's ear as she whispered, her voice a soft murmur.

"See? He's innocent, Olivia. He doesn't know how...unusual this is. He thinks it's just love, just helping us."

Her tone was gentle, but there was a knowing edge to it, a recognition of the delicate game they were playing to protect Kafka's perception.

Olivia turned her head slightly, her voice dropping to a hushed, urgent whisper, her eyes searching Abigaille's.

"But why is he like this?" She asked, her tone tinged with exasperation. "What made him so...bizarre, so okay with doing these things? How did he get to this point?"

Her words were a plea for understanding, a need to unravel the origins of Kafka's unconventional mindset.

Abigaille's lips curled into a wry smile, her eyes glinting with amusement and guilt.

"It's...a lot of things." She said softly, her voice low to keep Kafka from overhearing. "This town, for one—its open-mindedness, the way it blurs lines we'd never cross elsewhere."

"It started small, just being closer, more open with each other, but it...snowballed."

"And I'm not blameless, Olivia. I fell for him, same as you, and my feelings twisted things, made what's wrong seem natural to him."

"...I let it happen, encouraged it, because I couldn't resist him."

Her admission was raw, unapologetic, and Olivia's eyes widened, a jolt of shock coursing through her at the realization that Abigaille had played a role in shaping Kafka's skewed understanding.

"You..." Olivia whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. "You let him think this is okay? You made him believe these things are normal?"

Her tone was accusatory, but beneath it lay a flicker of recognition—she, too, was succumbing, her own desires pulling her into the same trap.

Before Abigaille could respond, Olivia's gaze darted to Kafka, then back to Abigaille, a new suspicion flaring.

"Wait..." She said, her voice sharpening, her eyes narrowing. "You've been tricking him, haven't you? Using these...massages as a way to pleasure yourself, hiding behind 'motherly love'?"

She gestured to the puddle on the floor, her tone laced with accusation.

"How far have you gone, Abi? What else have you made him do in the name of helping his mother?...Just how deep does this go?"

Abigaille's smile turned sly, her succubus aura pulsing with a playful defiance.

"Oh, Liv" She said, her voice a teasing purr. "I'm not telling you that...Not yet."

Her eyes gleamed with mischief, a challenge in her gaze.

"When I started this...bizarre relationship with Kafi, I struggled, just like you are now. I had to figure it out, step by step, feel my way through the guilt, the desire, until I was ready to take it further."

"And now, I want you to do the same—to build that bond with him, to discover it for yourself."

"If I told you how close we are, you'd either run or try to jump straight to where we are, and that's not how it works."

"...You need to grow into it, to let it unfold naturally."

Olivia's cheeks flushed, her heart racing with a little indignation and fear.

"I'm not trying to get closer to him!" She protested, her voice rising despite her effort to keep it low. "I don't want to...to use him like that, to make him do things in the name of love that are so selfish, so wrong!"

"...I'm not like you, Abi. I won't let this go that far!"

Abigaille shook her head, her smile unwavering, her eyes glinting with a knowing certainty.

"That's what I said, too, at first." She said, her tone soft but pointed. "I told myself I'd never cross those lines, that I'd stay a mother, not a...woman in his presence."

"But Kafi? He's irresistible, Olivia. His charm, his touch, the way he looks at you it pulls you in, makes you forget what's right."

"I succumbed, and you will too. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually, you'll see him as more than your son."

"...You'll want him, just like I do."

Olivia's breath caught, her body trembling with embarrassment and dread. Abigaille's words struck too close to home, echoing the thoughts she'd been fighting—the way Kafka's touch set her ablaze, the way his gaze made her feel like a woman, not just a mother.

She wanted to deny it, to cling to her resolve, but the images flashing through her mind his hands on her body, his breath against her skin—stirred a longing she couldn't suppress.

"N-No..." She said, her voice shaking. "It won't happen. I won't let it go that far. I'm his mother, not...not some woman throwing herself at him. It's different with me."

Abigaille's gaze softened, but the knowing glint remained, her voice a quiet challenge.

"We'll see, Olivia." She said, her tone almost affectionate. "You're strong, I know that. You've overcome so much."

"But love?...Love for Kafi? That's something even you can't resist."

"He's...special, undeniable, one of those forces you can't fight, no matter how hard you try." She leaned closer, her breath warm against Olivia's ear. "Just wait and you'll see for yourself."

Olivia's heart pounded, her mind a tumult of fear, desire, and uncertainty. Abigaille's certainty, her unapologetic embrace of her feelings, was both terrifying and alluring, a glimpse into a future she wasn't ready to face.

She looked down at Kafka, his innocent smile unchanged and felt a pang of longing tinged with dread.

What had Abigaille and Kafka done, how far had they gone, to make her abandon her role as a mother?

And would she, too, fall into that same abyss, drawn by the irresistible pull of her son's charm?

The questions hung heavy, unanswered, as Abigaille's knowing gaze promised a future Olivia couldn't yet imagine, a dance of desire that was only beginning...