God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem-Chapter 632: Intimate Cuddling

Kafka's gaze flickered, a spark of something darker—satisfaction, perhaps flashing in his eyes, though his smile remained gentle.

"It's not that I'm trying to leave you out." He said, his voice soothing. "It's just...what Mom and I do, how we cuddle, it's...real intimate. Stuff that doesn't usually happen between mothers and sons, not outside this village. It's tied to the traditions here, the openness we talked about."

"...I don't wanna throw all that at you when you're just getting used to the Idea."

Olivia's eyes lit with understanding, her earlier conversation about the village's customs clicking into place.

"So...you're saying normal mothers and sons wouldn't be this close?" She asked, her voice soft but probing. "And it's only because you and Abi embraced the village's ways that you're...like this?"

"Exactly..." Kafka said, nodding. "What we're doing now, sitting close like this? It's technically cuddling, sure, but for Mom and me, it's...basic. Barely counts. We're so used to being open, physically and emotionally, that this is just...sitting together."

"Basically my sense of intimacy's kinda warped from living here, so I didn't mean to laugh. Your idea of cuddling—being close like this, it's sweet, but ours is...next level."

Olivia nodded slowly, a bit of understanding and unease settling over her.

The idea that their closeness was merely a starting point, that Abigaille and Kafka shared something even deeper, stirred a pang of longing in her chest—not jealousy, but a desperate desire to be part of that bond, to share the same closeness with her son.

"I...I see." She murmured, her voice thoughtful.

Kafka's arm tightened around her, pulling her closer, his voice gentle but firm.

"I don't wanna throw my version of intimacy at you, Mom. You just got here, and I don't wanna make you uncomfortable. You're probably not ready for how I act with Mom, and that's okay. This..." He squeezed her shoulder, her soft body pressed against his. "...This is perfect for now. We'll get there, when you're ready."

Olivia's heart raced, the closeness of his body, the strength of his arm, already overwhelming. The idea of something even more intimate was daunting, yet the thought of being left out, of missing the bond Abigaille shared with Kafka, gnawed at her.

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She'd waited years to reconnect with her son, to feel his love, and now that she was here, she didn't want to wait any longer.

Looking up at him, her eyes fierce with determination, she shook her head.

"I can handle it, Kafi." She said, her voice trembling but resolute. "I don't need time to get used to the village's customs. I've already waited so long to be close to you too long. I don't want to wait anymore."

"...Tell me how you and Abi cuddle. I want to experience it, too. I want to be that close to you."

Kafka's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but deep within, a smirk curled in his mind, his plan unfolding exactly as he'd hoped. He'd been planting seeds, nudging Olivia toward embracing the village's 'customs' slowly drawing her into the web of intimacy he'd woven with Abigaille.

Her insistence, her eagerness to match Abigaille's closeness, was a step toward making her his, just as he'd claimed Abigaille.

"You sure about that, Mom?" He asked, his voice low, testing her resolve. "It's...a lot. More than you might expect."

She nodded, her gaze unwavering despite the nervous flutter in her chest. "I'm sure." She said, her voice steady. "I want to be part of this, Kafi. I want to be close to you, like Abi is...Show me."

Kafka's eyes gleamed with warmth and calculated intent as he looked at Olivia, her resolute nod and steady gaze fueling his carefully laid plan.

"Fine." He said, his voice low and teasing, a playful edge masking the deeper game he was playing. "If you're so sure you want to learn, I'll show you. Let's start with how Mom likes to cuddle on the couch."

"...It's actually quite playful, her go-to move whenever we're watching a movie. So much so that the second the TV's on, she's in the same spot every time, right on my lap."

Olivia's attention sharpened, her curiosity piqued as she leaned in, eager to understand the dynamics of this household she'd been absent from.

But the moment the words 'on my lap' left his mouth, her cheeks flushed a deep pink, her eyes widening with embarrassment and surprise.

"On...your lap?" She stammered, her voice a whisper. "You don't mean....actually sitting on your lap, do you? There's no way Abi does that, right?"

Kafka's grin widened, his tone matter-of-fact but laced with amusement.

"No other meaning, Mom. Exactly what you're thinking. Mom sits right on my lap, arms around me, hugging me tight while we watch movies. It's her favorite spot—says it's the perfect seat, as she gets to hug her son and stare at my 'handsome face as much as she wants."

He chuckled, his eyes flicking to her flushed cheeks.

"See? This is why I didn't wanna tell you. Look at you, blushing already...I'll stop here unless you want your whole face turning red."

Hearing her son was about to push her away, Olivia's panic flared, her hands waving frantically as she shook her head.

"No, no, I'm not embarrassed!" She insisted, her voice quick and defiant, though the heat in her cheeks betrayed her. "I was just...surprised, that's all. It caught me off guard. It doesn't bother me, really."

"...Go on, Kafi, I want to know. I want to be part of this."

Kafka cast a suspicious glance, his brow arching as he studied her confident gaze, sensing the shyness lurking beneath. Her determination to be part of their closeness, to match Abigaille's bond with him, was exactly what he'd hoped for.

He sighed dramatically, as if relenting. "Alright, alright. If you're sure you wanna experience what Mom does, then step one: you gotta sit on my lap."

He patted his thighs invitingly, his smile warm but challenging.

"Come on, right here."

Olivia gulped, her eyes darting to his lap, her heart racing at the invitation. The idea of sitting on her son's lap, so close, so intimate, was daunting, but her desire to be as close to him as Abigaille was overpowered her hesitation.

Swallowing hard, she nodded, following his gentle guidance as he instructed her. "Just like a kid would, Mom. Sit across my lap, nice and easy."

Slowly, she maneuvered herself, her plump body shifting as she settled onto his lap, her thick, stocking-clad thighs pressing against his, her massive breasts brushing against his chest as she positioned herself sideways, her face close enough to see the flecks in his eyes.

At first, the intimacy was overwhelming—her soft, bouncy ass planted firmly on his lap, her breasts a warm, firm pressure against him. She thought it might be too much, too close, but as she settled, a wave of comfort washed over her.

His body, hard and strong beneath her, felt like a haven, far more reassuring than the softest couch. She understood, in that moment, why Abigaille chose this spot, and a flicker of curiosity sparked—maybe she was starting to grasp the village's openness, as it allowed for opportunities like this which she never would get to experience out of this town.

What Olivia didn't know was the battle Kafka was fighting beneath his calm exterior.

Her plump, bouncy ass, shifting with every slight movement, was a torment, each bounce sending a jolt of desire through him. Her breasts, pressed so close, were a reminder of their earlier collision, their firmness a paradox of softness and strength that drove him wild.

Unspeakable thoughts—images of ravaging her, claiming her as he had Abigaille,.flashed through his mind, but he clamped them down, knowing he had to move slowly, to guide her into his web with care...