NOVEL WEB Chapter 667: 'The Airplane Is Coming'
Olivia blinked, her mind sluggishly clawing its way out of the daze that had enveloped her, the shocking image of Abigaille's lips on Kafka's cock still searing her thoughts.
To her surprise, she found herself seated at the dinner table, the world snapping into focus as a spoon hovered before her lips, its contents tantalizingly close but unable to enter her now-closed mouth. She gulped, confusion flooding her as she registered the voices behind her.
"Look, Mom, she's finally awake." Kafka's voice rang out, bright with amusement, a playful lilt cutting through the haze.
"Oh, it seems like she is." Abigaille replied, her tone a warm, teasing purr, her presence a palpable heat at Olivia's side.
Olivia turned, her breath catching as she found Kafka right behind her, his chiseled frame looming close, his bare chest glistening in the dim light. Abigaille was beside her, her bronzed curves pressed against his side, her purple underwear clinging to her like a second skin.
The proximity was startling, but what sent a jolt through Olivia was the realization of her own position.
She wasn't just at the table she was perched on Kafka's lap, her plump ass molding into the hard, muscled expanse of his thigh, her squishy body sinking into his warmth. Abigaille occupied his other thigh, her own curves nestled against him, both of them sharing a single chair in a scandalously intimate arrangement.
Her face flushed, a wave of embarrassment crashing over her as she felt the unyielding strength of Kafka's thigh beneath her, the way her soft flesh conformed to his contours, her ass warming with every subtle shift.
The thin barrier of their underwear did little to dull the sensation—his heat seeped into her, igniting a forbidden thrill she fought to suppress. She wanted to leap up, to restore some semblance of propriety, to escape the shameful intimacy of sitting on her son's lap.
But a deeper, traitorously yearning part of her craved the closeness, the electric connection of their bodies. Her resolve wavered, and instead of moving, she turned to Kafka, her eyes searching his face, his curious, open gaze disarming her defenses.
"How...How did I get here?" She asked, her voice trembling, her cheeks burning as she gestured to their compromising position. "How long have I been sitting like this? And...were you feeding me this whole time?"
Her questions tumbled out, a desperate bid to make sense of the surreal moment, her mind still reeling from the memory of Abigaille's brazen act.
Abigaille answered before Kafka could, her smile wide and mischievous as she scooped another spoonful of food from the plate, popping it into her own mouth with a satisfied hum.
"Oh, Liv." She said, her voice rich with amusement, her eyes twinkling with delight. "After my little...appreciation of Kafi's cock, you completely blanked out. Went all dreamy, like you were in a trance or something."
"You wouldn't respond, no matter what we said or did, just staring off, mouth half-open, like a robot." She chuckled, leaning closer, her breast brushing Kafka's arm. "So, Kafi and I guided you over here, sat you down, well, on his lap, of course, just like we planned."
"We didn't want you missing dinner, so he's been feeding you this whole time...You were out of it, but your body knew what to do."
Olivia's eyes widened, her embarrassment deepening as she processed Abigaille's words.
"Feeding me?" She echoed, her voice faint, her gaze darting to Kafka, who grinned at her, his expression full of affection and playful pride. "How...How was I even eating if I was...out of it? I don't remember any of it!"
Kafka chuckled, his hand resting lightly on her hip, his touch sending a fresh wave of heat through her.
"It was pretty cute, Mom." He said, his voice warm, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Every time I brought the spoon near your nose, you'd sniff it, and your mouth would just...open up, like it was on autopilot."
"I'd then slide the food in, pull the spoon out, and you'd chew and swallow, all on your own. Worked like a charm."
His grin widened, a teasing edge creeping into his tone.
"Kinda like feeding a baby, honestly. I even did the whole 'airplane's coming' thing a couple times, you know, like parents do? And you'd open wider, like you were waiting for it. It was so funny."
Abigaille laughed, her voice a melodic chime as she nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling with mirth.
"Oh, it was adorable, Olivia." She said, her tone dripping with delight. "Watching you act like a little baby, all instinctive and sweet. You'd chew with this tiny, satisfied look on your face, like you were in heaven, We couldn't stop giggling."
Olivia's cheeks burned, a flush of mortification spreading down her neck as she clutched the edge of the table, her voice rising in protest.
"Why didn't you just wake me up?" She demanded, her tone sharp but unsteady, her embarrassment warring with indignation. "Why were you...playing with me like that, treating me like some...some infant? That's not funny!"
Kafka's expression softened, his hand squeezing her hip gently.
"We tried, Mom." He said, his tone earnest, though a playful glint lingered in his eyes. "I shook you, called your name, even...well, I was groping your breasts a bit to see if that'd snap you out of it."
His words sent a jolt through her, her hands flying to cover her chest, a sudden warmth flooding her as she realized why her breasts had felt so sensitive.
"But you didn't budge." He continued, his voice unapologetic. "And honestly? You looked so happy, so content every time you swallowed your food, with this little smile on your face."
"...It was too cute to stop. So I just kept feeding you, figured you needed it."
Olivia's face flamed, her heart racing as she processed his words, the image of herself in a daze, mindlessly eating while Kafka groped her, both horrifying and strangely thrilling.
"Don't...don't treat me like a baby, Kafi." She stammered, her voice trembling with flustered defiance. "I'm an adult, your mother. I'm supposed to be the one feeding you, not the other way around!"
Abigaille's smile was warm, her eyes softening as she leaned closer, her voice a gentle tease.
"Oh, Liv, don't get all flustered." She said, her tone rich with affection. "It's just coming full circle, isn't it? Way back when, you were the one feeding Kafi, struggling to get him to eat without a fuss—he was such a picky little thing, always putting up a fight."
She chuckled, her gaze flicking to Kafka, who grinned sheepishly.
"Now it's his turn to take care of you, that's all. And look, he's feeding me too!" She gestured to the plate, where Kafka scooped another spoonful of food, guiding it toward her mouth.
Abigaille opened wide, taking the spoon with a theatrical flourish, chewing with a delighted hum.
"Mmm, so delicious, Kafi." She purred, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction, her voice a sultry murmur. "You're so good at this, feeding your moms like a pro. Tastes even better when it's from you." She licked her lips, her gaze flicking to Olivia.
Olivia's embarrassment ebbed slightly, replaced by a pang of envy as she watched Abigaille savor the experience, fully conscious and reveling in Kafka's attention. She, on the other hand, had missed it all, her mind lost in the shock of Abigaille's taboo kiss, leaving her with nothing but vague warmth and a lingering sense of loss.
"I...I didn't even get to enjoy it." She murmured, her voice soft, almost petulant, her eyes dropping to the plate. "You were awake for it, Abi, but I...I don't remember anything."
Kafka's head tilted, his eyes glinting with curiosity as he caught her words, his hand resting lightly on her hip, sending a jolt of heat through her.
"What was that, Mom?" He asked, his voice a low, teasing rumble, his gaze locking onto hers with a disarming intensity. "What'd you say? Sounded like you were wishing for something."
Olivia hesitated, her cheeks flushing as she bit her lip, her mind wrestling with the embarrassment of her desire. Admitting she wanted to be fed like Abigaille, to feel Kafka's attention so intimately, felt like a surrender to the taboo currents swirling around them.
But Abigaille's satisfied hums, her radiant joy as she savored each bite, tugged at Olivia's heart, a pang of longing to experience the same connection, the same care.
Swallowing her pride, she turned to Kafka, her eyes shy and coy, her voice barely above a whisper. "I...I was just thinking..." She said, her tone trembling with vulnerability. "...that I'd like you to feed me too, Kafi. Like you did for Abigaille."
"...I want to feel it, to experience it properly this time."