Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

The walls were made of mud, reinforced with wooden poles, and the roofs were thatched with straw, providing shelter from the elements. The craftsmanship was rudimentary yet effective, a testament to the ingenuity of these people.

As Mitt and I moved deeper into the village, the presence of the guards became impossible to ignore. They stood like sentinels, their bodies coiled with strength, their spears held with the easy confidence of men who knew how to use them.

Their muscles rippled beneath sun-darkened skin, their postures alert, their eyes sharp as they scanned the surroundings. When they spotted Mitt, one of them stepped forward, his voice low but carrying the weight of authority.

”Elder Mitt, you’re back... and who is this kid?”

I could feel their gazes on me, assessing, curious. Kid. The word grated. I knew why they saw me that way—no beard, no mustache, not even the faintest shadow of stubble on my jaw.

My body was lean, hardened by whatever strange life I’d lived before this, but to them, I was just another half-grown boy, barely worth a second glance.

My crotch was smooth, too, shaved clean by habit—a preference that felt absurdly out of place here. I wondered how long it would take for the hair to grow back, how long before I’d blend in a little more. Not that it mattered. I could work with a kid. Kids were easy to underestimate.

Mitt said, ”Well, we rescued this kid in the forest. His family was attacked by a tiger, and now he is the only one left. He was not a member of a tribe, so we all suggested taking him into our village.” Mitt repeated the story I told them.

They all nodded and looked at me with kindness, their eyes a mix of acceptance and welcome. They said, ”Welcome to our village.” The words were a mix of kindness and generosity, a reminder of the complex social structures that existed even in this primitive world.

I dipped my head, forcing my voice to sound small, grateful. ”Thank you for taking me in. I’ll work hard. I won’t be a burden.” The words tasted like ash, but I said them anyway. Play the part. Blend in.

Mitt clapped a hand on my shoulder, his fingers thick and calloused. ”His name’s Dexter. He’s one of us now—part of the Kronos Village, the Kronos tribe.” There was pride in his voice, the kind of pride that came from belonging to something bigger than yourself.

Then he turned to the guards, his tone leaving no room for argument. ”I’m taking him in. He’ll live with me and my woman. You guys go do your work,” he said.

The use of the word ”woman” instead of ”wife” piqued my curiosity. It seemed there was no concept of marriage, or perhaps even the terms ”husband” or ”wife,” in this primitive world. I thought it was intersting and I was curious how thier relationships were.

The guards didn’t question him. They just nodded, murmuring, ”Yes, Elder Mitt,” before melting back into their patrol, their bodies moving with the same predatory grace I’d come to associate with these people.

I noticed all of their bodies were like mine, full of muscles and abs, and some were even taller than me, but some were also like Mitt, who had a big belly, a testament to the abundance of food in this village.

As Mitt and I walked through the village, the scene around me was a mix of primitive beauty and raw, untamed life. The air was filled with the scent of cooking food, a big fire crackling in the center of the village, around which the women were gathered.

The women were a vision of raw, untamed beauty, their bodies glistening with a sheen of sweat from the heat of the fire and their labor. Their skin tones ranged from creamy white to rich caramel brown, each one unique and captivating in its own way.

Their bodies were adorned with intricate tattoos and simple bone jewelry, adding to their primal allure. Their hair cascaded down their backs in long, silken strands, some as dark as the night, others as light as the sun, glistening with a natural sheen.

Their breasts were full and firm, their nipples dark and erect, some a deep, dark brown, others a soft, inviting pink. The sight of their areolas, visible through the sparse coverings of leaves, sent a jolt of desire through me.

The leaves they wore were more like skirts, but completely open from behind, revealing their bare, smooth ass cheeks. The sight was both fascinating and wildly erotic, a testament to the uninhibited nature of this primitive society.

Their ass cheeks were firm and round, their skin smooth and unblemished, swaying slightly with each movement as they worked around the fire.

The desire to reach out and touch them, to feel the smoothness of their skin, was almost overwhelming. Their pubic hair was a mix of black and blonde; some even had white hair, a stark contrast to their skin tones. The sight was both exotic and wildly erotic, a testament to the raw, untamed beauty of these women.

The sight sent a pang of desire through me, a reminder of the needs and wants that were still very much a part of me. My cock started to grow hard, a reaction to the erotic sight before me.

The women were a vision of exotic beauty and savage charm. Their skin tones varied from creamy white to shades of caramel brown, their bodies adorned with tattoos and jewelry that added to their primal appeal.

I saw all the women come over, and I couldn’t help but notice their tits bouncing; some of their nipples even peeked out. But they didn’t care, as if this was normal.

I noticed even the men who were around didn’t show any perverted look, making me think of the innocence and simplicity of this primitive world.

The women noticed us approaching, their heads lifting in unison. One of them—a tall woman with skin like polished bronze and hair so black it swallowed the light—stepped forward. Her voice was warm, curious. ”Elder Mitt...”

But I wasn’t looking at her face.

My gaze was locked on the way her breasts moved as she breathed, the way her nipples peeked out from between the leaves covering her chest.

On the way, her hips swayed as she walked, the firm globes of her ass flexing with every step. On the thatch of dark hair between her thighs, thick and wild, a stark contrast to the smoothness of her skin.

”Who is this kid?” she asked, and I could hear the doubt in her voice. Her eyes flicked over me, lingering on my chest, my crotch, sizing me up. Deciding if I was worth the trouble.