Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

My gaze flicked down to Ada, my breath catching as her fingers trembled against the waistband of her skirt. With a slow, deliberate motion, she let the leaf skirt fall at her feet, revealing the glistening, swollen folds of her pussy—already dripping, already begging for me.

Then, without a word, she reached up and plucked away the flimsy leaves covering her nipples, letting them fall to the ground. Her breasts spilled free, her hard, erect nipples standing at attention, dark and swollen with need.

My gaze dragged over her body, devouring every inch—the way her thighs quivered under my scrutiny, the wet sheen of her pussy lips, the way her breath stuttered when my eyes lingered just a second too long. A smirk tugged at my lips as I tilted my head, my expression carefully schooled into one of mock confusion.

”Aunt Ada...” I murmured, my voice laced with saccharine innocence, the kind that made her body betray her with a shiver.

My fingers followed, tracing the soft curve of her cheek before ghosting over her lips—200 points—with a touch so light it was almost an insult.

I didn’t rush. My hand drifted lower, skimming the delicate hollow of her collarbone, then sliding into the warm valley between her breasts, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath my palm.

When I finally cupped her tits—200 points each—I deliberately bypassed her nipples, letting my fingers continue their descent. I hovered just above the swollen, glistening heat between her thighs, my thumb brushing against the dampness there, gathering the slick proof of her arousal.

The moment my finger made contact with her pussy—800 points—a slow, satisfied smirk spread across my face.

I let my eyes linger, drinking in the sight before tilting my head in exaggerated confusion.

”Aunt Ada...” I murmured, my voice dripping with false concern, ”Are you sick too?” My fingers hovered just above her, not quite touching as I feigned innocence.

”Why is your pussy... dripping like this?” I let the question hang in the air, my tone a perfect blend of curiosity and mock worry. ”And your nipples... they’re just as hard as Aunt Kerry’s.”

Ada’s cheeks flushed crimson, her fingers twitching at her sides like she wanted to cover herself—but she didn’t. She couldn’t. Not when my gaze was locked onto her, not when my thumb was already smudging her wetness, teasing her slick folds.

”I-I don’t know...” she stammered, her voice trembling. ”When I looked at you and Ruth...” Her words faltered, her lips parting as I brought my thumb—glistening with her own arousal—to her mouth.

”It just... it became wet... and started dripping...” Her tongue darted out, hesitating for only a second before she obeyed, lapping at the salty-sweet taste of herself. A broken whimper escaped her as she sucked my thumb into her mouth, her eyes fluttering shut in shame—and lust.

I pulled my thumb free with a wet pop, my cock throbbing painfully against my pants at the sight of her submission. ”Mmm...” I hummed, my voice thick with dark satisfaction.

”And now?” My fingers trailed lower, dipping between her thighs, my knuckles brushing against her soaked pussy lips. ”Does it still ache, Ada?” I murmured, pressing the pad of my finger against her swollen clit, circling it just enough to make her hips jerk forward.

Ada’s breath came in ragged gasps, her fingers clawing at my wrist, not to stop me—but to pull me closer. ”Y-Yes...” she whimpered, her voice cracking. ”It hurts, Dexter... It throbs...” Her gaze flicked to Kerry, her lips parting as if she’d just realized something. ”Kerry... are you also sick?”

The air in the room thickened, heavy with the musky scent of arousal—the kind of filthy perfume that made my cock throb painfully against my pants. Kerry’s fingers trembled over the waistband of her skirt, her pride warring with the deep, pulsing ache between her thighs.

For a heartbeat, she hesitated, her full, trembling lips pressed into a thin line, her hard nipples already straining against the flimsy leaves covering them. But then, with a shuddering exhale, she let the fabric slither down her legs, the skirt pooling at her feet like a discarded veil of modesty.

Her hands moved to the damp, crumpled leaves clinging to her nipples, her fingers plucking them away with a sharp, desperate tug. Her breasts spilled free, heavy and full, the dark, swollen buds of her nipples jutted out, erect and aching, the tips glistening with a light sheen of sweat.

The tight, puckered areolas were flushed deep pink, begging to be sucked, bitten, tormented. A thick, dark bush curled between her thighs, glistening with wetness, the matted curls clinging to her swollen pussy lips.

A slow, steady trickle of arousal dripped down her inner thighs, the sticky, salty-sweet evidence of her desperation shining in the dim light.

”Yeah...” Kerry admitted, her voice a husky, shameful whisper, thick with need. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Ada—not when her own body was screaming for me, not when her pussy was flooding, her clit throbbing like a little heartbeat between her legs. Her gaze stayed locked onto me, her fingers twisting together in front of her, as if she were begging without words.

”They’ve been hard...” she confessed, her chest heaving, her breath coming in quick, desperate gasps. ”For a long time...” Her voice cracked, her nipples tightening even more under my hungry stare, the dark buds aching for my mouth, my teeth, my rough, possessive hands.

My cock jerked violently, throbbing against the confines of my pants as I took in the sight of them—two innocent beauties, now bare and trembling, their pussies dripping, their nipples stiff with need, their bushes thick and glistening with arousal.

And I knew—once they felt my cock stretching them open, once they tasted the pleasure I could give them, they’d be ruined. Owned. Mine.

A dark, possessive growl rumbled in my chest as I stepped closer, my fingers trailing over Ada’s collarbone before dipping into the cleavage between her heavy, trembling breasts.

Her nipples were just as hard, the dark, swollen peaks begging for attention, the areolas puffy and flushed, the tiny bumps of her skin prickling under my touch. I pinched one between my fingers, twisting just enough to make her gasp, her back arching, her pussy clenching around nothing.

”Aunt Ada... Aunt Kerry...” I murmured, my voice a smooth, dangerous purr, thick with filthy promise. ”Why don’t you both lie down...” My fingers trailed lower, over the soft swell of Ada’s stomach, teasing the top of her bush before dipping between her thighs. Her pussy lips were already swollen, glistening with wetness, the dark, curly hairs matted with her arousal.

I spread her folds with my thumb, exposing the pink, dripping entrance, the tiny, fluttering hole already begging to be filled. ”And let me see if I can cure your dripping pussies...”