Camilaughed, a delicate sound, drawing the others back from their shared reverie.
"Right..." She said, her voice regaining itsmposure, though a faint blush still lingered on her cheeks. "As we were saying, Kafka is...undeniably lustful. And, frankly..." She added, her eyes narrowing slightly. "...I find it highly unlikely he would 'take turns,' as you put it, when both my daughter and I are under the same roof."
Nina's eyes widened, a dawning realization spreading across her face. "You mean...that...?" She stammered, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson.
Camila nodded, her own cheeks tinted a delicate pink. "Yes." Shenfirmed, her voice barely above a whisper. "He...usually takes us both at the same time."
Nina's jaw dropped. She stared at Camila, her mind reeling.
Bella, the sweet, innocent little girl she remembered, now a woman sharing such intimate moments with her own mother. It was a revelation that sent a strange mix of shock and fascination through her.
"I...I never imagined." She murmured, her voice laced with disbelief. "Bella...she's grown up so much."
Abigaille, meanwhile, looked utterly bewildered.
"Wait..." She said, her brow furrowed innfusion. "Kafi...Kafi does that? With both of you? At the same time?" She paused, her eyes widening in sudden understanding. "Is that what he's been doing every time he's gone next door?" A look of stunned surprise washed over her face. "I always thought he was just...borrowing sugar or something."
Camila, seemingly unfazed by their reactions, shifted slightly, a soft, almost dreamy expression settling on her face.
"And well..." She began, her voice low and intimate. "When you share such...moments with someone, it's only natural that other intimacies follow." She blushed slightly, her gaze drifting away. "There are some shared moments...Moments ofnnection."
Nina, her curiosity piqued, leaned forward. "Shared moments? What do you mean?" She asked, her voice laced with a mixture of intrigue and apprehension.
Camila hesitated, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. "It's...rather embarrassing." She murmured, her voice barely audible. "Even for me. I don't want to go into too much detail." She paused, then, with a sigh,ntinued. "But...sometimes, after he...finishes inside me, he asks me to...clean him up." She looked away, her embarrassment palpable.
"...With my mouth."
Allective gasp filled the air. Nina and Abigaille exchanged shocked glances, their own faces now mirroring Camila's blush. "Oh." Nina breathed, her voice barely a whisper. "That...that's happened to me too."
Abigaille nodded, her eyes wide. "Me too." She admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "I thought...I thought it was just me."
Camila, emboldened by their shared experience,ntinued. "Well, he does the same when he's with both Bella and me." She paused, then added, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Only...when he finishes inside me, he doesn't ask me to clean him up."
A moment of stunned silence followed. Nina's eyes widened, and a slow, horrified realization dawned on her face. "He...He asks Bella?" She whispered, her voice laced with disbelief.
Camila nodded, her cheeks burning. "Yes." Shenfirmed, her voice barely audible. "And...and when he finishes inside Bella, he asks me."
The air crackled with unspoken emotions: shock, embarrassment, and a strange, almost morbid curiosity. Nina and Abigaille stared at Camila, their minds reeling from the revelation. The intimacy of the act, the sheer audacity of it, was almost overwhelming.
"That's..." Nina stammered, her voice trailing off. "That's...quite something."
Abigaille, her eyes wide with a mix of horror and fascination at what her son was doing, simply nodded, unable to find the words to express her shock. "I...I don't know what to say." She murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "I never imagined..."
Camila sighed, a mix of resignation and acceptance in her expression. "He has his...preferences." She said, her voice laced with a hint of exasperation, though a faint blush still lingered on her cheeks. "And we...ammodate them."
And then suddenly, she seemed to realize the intensity of their gazes, the unspoken questions hanging in the air, the way they were both processing the sheer, unadulterated absurdness of it all.
A wave of embarrassment washed over her, and she quickly added, "Look, that's what I'm saying that a few kisses here and there are really nothingmpared to...well, you know." She gestured vaguely, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of crimson, her eyes darting nervously around the room. "...to what I've already said, shall we say, 'sampled the wares' of my own daughter."
"...So, a little shared saliva is hardly a shock."
Nina, still reeling from the previous revelations,uld only nod in silent, stunned agreement. There was no arguing with that logic, however bizarre it was.
Camila, regaining a semblance of her usualmposure, shifted slightly, her gaze drifting towards an unseen point in the distance, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow.
"Thinking about the future..." She began, her voice hesitant, a touch of apprehension creeping in. "When we all live together...there's no way he's going to take us one by one. He'll be like a...a ravenous beast, devouring us all at once. We should be prepared to be...one with one another at that time."
Nina, her face still flushed, remained silent for a moment,ntemplating the implications of Camila's words, the sheer logistics of it all.
"I-I've already thought about that." She finally admitted, her voice barely a whisper, a nervous tremor running through it. "And...I-I wouldn't mind having Abigaille by my side. She has a...soothing presence. I think she'd be a great support when dealing with Kafka's...onslaught."
A small, nervous smile played on her lips, a hint of desperation in her eyes.
Abigaille, a warm smile gracing her features, reached out and gently squeezed Nina's hand, her touch reassuring. "I'd be happy to." She reassured her, her voice filled with genuine affection, a hint of understanding in her eyes.
However, Nina's gaze then shifted towards Camila, a hint of wariness, of a deep-seated, almost primal awkwardness, in her eyes. "But you." She said, her voice laced with a touch of hesitation, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. "You're going to be...difficult."
Camila raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at therner of her lips, a hint of wounded pride in her eyes.
"Difficult? Why?...And why does Abi get special treatment?"
Nina sighed, trying to articulate hermplicated feelings, the tangled web of emotions that made this whole situation so...uniquely challenging.
"It's not special treatment." She clarified, her voice laced with a hint of awkwardness, a desperate attempt to explain the unexplainable. "It's just...different. With Abigaille, it's...well, it's a bizarre situation, but it's new."
"We met under...extraordinary circumstances, through Kafka. So, sharing a bed with her, with him...it's just another layer of the bizarreness. It somehow makes sense, in a twisted way. It's like adding another surreal element to an already surreal painting."
She paused, searching for the right words, her fingers fidgeting nervously.
"But with you, Camila...we've known each other for years. We're friends. Close friends. Best friends. And the thought of...sharing such an intimate moment with you...it feels...awkward. Like one day I'm sharing secrets over tea, and the next I'm sharing...well, you know. It's like suddenly finding out your favorite childhood teddy bear has a secret, surprisingly sensual life."
Nina tilted her head, her brow furrowing as she studied Camila's unflappable demeanor. "Okay, but what about you?" She asked, her voice tinged with incredulity. "How in the world are you not awkward about all this? I mean, you're just sitting here, casually dropping these bombs like it's nothing!"
Camila rolled her eyes, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned back, exuding an air of seasoned nonchalance. "Nina, when you've seen your own daughter getting fucked like a beast by the same man you love, trust me—there's really nothing left that can faze you. Awkward doesn't even register anymore."
Nina opened her mouth to respond, but the sheer weight of Camila's words left her speechless, her mind grappling with the blunt reality of it. She had nounter, no witty retort—just a stunned silence.
Camila's smirk softened into a knowing smile as she leaned forward slightly, her tone teasing now.
"Besides, why are you getting so hot and bothered about this? It's not like you haven't seen mempletely naked before."
Nina's eyes widened, a look of dismay flashing across her face as she sputtered. "There's an obvious difference between seeing you naked and then watching that very naked body being toyed with by someone! It's—It's not the same thing at all!"
Camila chuckled, clearly enjoying Nina's flustered reaction, and opened her mouth to fire back another quip.
But just as their bickering was about to escalate, a sudden sound cut through the air—soft, wet, unmistakable smacks of lips against skin.
"Peck!♡~ Peck!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Peck!♡~ Lick!♡~"
Both women froze, their heads snapping toward the source of the noise in unison.
And to their utter shock, there was Abigaille, pressed up against Kafka, kissing him with a fervor that left no room for misinterpretation.
"Pucker!♡~ Pucker!♡~ Smooch!♡~ Pucker!♡~ Suck!♡~"
Her lips danced across his face—his cheeks, his jaw, therner of his mouth—each kiss landing with a hungry little sound that echoed in the otherwise quiet room, while Kafka simply stood staring into nowhere as if he was stuck in his own thoughts.
Nina's jaw dropped, her earlier embarrassment forgotten in the face of this new spectacle. "W-What the-Abigaille?!"
Camila blinked, then let out a low, amused hum. "Well, looks like someoneuldn't wait to test her own theory."
Abigaille, her lips still pressed against her son's cheek, finally noticed their stunned gazes. She pulled back, her cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink, her eyes wide with a mixture of guilt and a desperate attempt to explain. "I-It's not what you think!" She stammered, her voice a breathless whisper. "Well, it is, but not in the way you think!"
"...I just—I noticed his gaze getting gloomier, and he started muttering things under his breath, all dark and brooding. It scared me, so I...I started on my own!"
She turned to them, her wide eyes pleading as she gestured toward Kafka, who indeed had a shadow creeping over his features, his lips moving faintly with unintelligible murmurs.
"Please,me over and help me out!" Abigaille urged, her tone growing more desperate. "He looks particularly vengeful tonight—like he's about tommit murder later if we don't snap him out of it!"
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Nina hesitated, her feet rooted to the spot as she glanced at Kafka, the intensity in his demeanor sending a shiver down her spine. But then she felt a gentle pat on her shoulder, and she turned to see Camila beside her, a reassuring smile softening her face.
"I don't know about you, Nina." Camila said, her voice steady and warm. "But if I had to choose who I'd share Kafka with, I wouldn't hesitate to pick you every single time."
"...There's no one else I'd want by my side in my most vulnerable moments."
Nina's eyes widened, a wave of warmth washing over her. She was taken aback by the sincerity of Camila's words, the unwavering trust and affection that shone in her eyes.
It made her realize that, despite the awkwardness, she wouldn't want anyone else but Camila by her side either. "Camila..." She murmured, her voice filled with a mixture of surprise and gratitude.
And then a tender gaze appeared in Nina's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of their deep bond. She nodded slowly, her earlier hesitation melting away like ice in the sun.
"Okay..." She whispered, her voice filled with newfound resolve. "But if he gets a particular taste for all three of us kissing him at the same time and drags us over just to enact his desires, I'm blaming you."
Camila's smile widened into a grin, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and resolve as she gave Nina's shoulder a firm, reassuring squeeze.
"Deal..." She said, her voice dripping with satisfaction, though there was an undercurrent of determination beneath it as she looked back at Kafka who still looked like a stone mountain even in the face of all the kisses he was getting from his mother. "Now, let's go help Abigaille before Kafka broods us all into allective existential crisis—or worse, starts plotting something diabolical in that head of his."
