Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

I stripped and took my own dip—cold water shocking my skin, washing away the sweat, cum, and musk of three women.

My cock hung heavy between my legs, half-hard even in the chill, remembering every hole it had claimed. When I climbed out, dripping, they were all watching—three pairs of eyes dark with renewed hunger.

We ate lunch after—simple supplies from the jeep: bread, cheese, dried fruit, jerky. We sat in a loose circle on the mats, the cave warmer now with the climbing sun.

Angela leaned against me, dress riding up her thighs; Mira sat cross-legged, wincing every time she shifted; Lisa stayed close to both, thighs pressed together like she was still aching.

I noticed Mira first—her gaze distant, fork paused halfway to her mouth, staring at nothing.

”What’s bothering you?” I asked quietly, setting my food down.

She shook her head—quick, almost guilty—then sighed.

”I... I was just thinking about... Nicole and Bill... whether they’ve eaten anything or not...”

Her voice cracked on the names—soft worry threading through the post-sex haze.

I studied her face—genuine concern there, mixed with the lingering flush of everything we’d done.

”Do you want to go meet them?” I asked. ”You know I can fly. We can go there whenever we want.”

Mira’s eyes snapped to mine—wide, hopeful, excited in an instant.

”Really?”

I nodded, slow and sure.

”Really. We can be there in under an hour. Check on them, bring supplies, make sure they’re fed... and maybe bring them back here if they want. Or just... visit.”

Mira’s face lit up—a bright, genuine smile breaking through the embarrassment and ache. She set her food aside and crawled over to me—careful, still limping—wrapping her arms around my neck in a sudden, fierce hug. Her tits pressed soft against my chest through the t-shirt; I felt the heat of her body, the faint tremor of relief and excitement.

”Thank you,” she whispered against my throat, lips brushing skin.

Angela chuckled softly from my other side, leaning in to kiss Mira’s temple.

”You’re sweet, even with a sore ass and my husband’s cum still probably leaking out of you.”

Mira blushed again—but laughed this time, light and free.

Lisa watched us all—eyes soft now, hunger tempered by something warmer.

”I’ll pack some food for them,” she said quietly. ”Extra blankets, medicine... whatever they need.”

I pulled Mira closer—hand sliding down to cup her ass through the denim, squeezing just enough to remind her who she belonged to.

”We leave in thirty,” I said. ”Get ready, wives. We’re going to see some old friends... and maybe make the trip interesting on the way.”

Mira shivered against me—half from the promise in my voice, half from the fresh ache blooming between her legs at the thought.

The cave felt alive again—anticipation thick in the air.

Flight suits. Supplies. Three women are still marked by me.

And a short hop to check on Nicole and Bill.

But knowing us... Things were never going to stay innocent for long.

After we finished eating—crumbs swept away, bellies full, the cave still heavy with the scent of sex and salt—I reached into the System Storage and pulled out the magical tool. It hummed faintly in my palm, warm like it remembered every filthy thing we’d done with its power.

I focused, willing it to shift. The cube unfolded in a shimmer of liquid metal—plates sliding, thrusters igniting with a low blue glow—until it locked into place as a sleek jetpack across my back. Harness straps snapped tight over my shoulders and chest, thrusters humming eagerly at my command.

Lisa and Angela were already on their feet—Angela in her short sundress, no panties, so the hem rode dangerously high whenever she moved; Lisa in her damp cargo shorts and cropped tank, nipples still hard from the morning wash. I opened my arms.

”C’mere, you two.”

They pressed in without hesitation—Lisa on my left, Angela on my right. I wrapped one arm around each of their waists, pulling them flush against my sides. Their tits squished soft and warm against my ribs; Angela’s bare thigh slid between mine, Lisa’s hand already drifting low to palm the growing bulge in my pants like she couldn’t help herself.

But Mira...

There was no strap left for her. No third spot on the harness.

She stood there for a heartbeat—new jeans hugging her ass, leather jacket zipped just low enough to show the swell of her tits—looking equal parts shy and determined. Then she stepped forward without a word, wrapped both arms tight around my neck, and jumped.

Her legs hooked around my waist instantly—thighs clamping hard, denim-covered pussy grinding right against the thick ridge of my cock through my pants. She buried her face in my neck, breath hot and shaky.

I chuckled low, dark, pleased—and adjusted the jetpack with a thought. A thin, reinforced belt of the same shimmering metal extended from the harness base, looping around Mira’s lower back and cinching tight.

It locked with a soft click, binding her body to mine chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip, her full tits collapsing against my pectorals so hard I felt her stiff nipples drag through both our shirts.

Mira let out a tiny, involuntary moan—barely audible, but I felt it vibrate against my throat. Her cheeks burned crimson when she pulled back just enough to meet my eyes—shy, wide, pupils blown despite the daylight spilling into the cave.

”Comfortable, little wife?” I murmured, lips brushing her ear.

She bit her lip—hard—then nodded once, hips giving the tiniest, helpless rock forward that smeared fresh wetness through her jeans onto my bulge.

”Very... tight,” she whispered, voice cracking on the last word.

Lisa snorted softly from my left, pressing her own tits harder against me.

”Jealous already, Mira? You’re literally strapped to his cock like a backpack slut.”

Angela laughed—throaty, wicked—nipping at my jaw on the other side.

”She’s dripping through those new jeans. I can smell it from here.”

Mira whimpered—embarrassed, aroused—burying her face again, but her thighs squeezed tighter around me like she never wanted to let go.

I activated the thrusters with a mental command. Blue fire bloomed low and controlled—silent, powerful. The jetpack lifted us smoothly off the cave floor, sand swirling beneath us in a gentle vortex.

I rose—three women clinging to me like prizes—Angela and Lisa tucked under my arms, Mira strapped front and center, her tits mashed to my chest, pussy grinding shamelessly against my hardening cock with every tiny shift of the flight.

We cleared the cave mouth in seconds. Salt wind hit us—cool, briny, whipping hair and fabric.

In my mind’s eye, the world map function flickered open—a glowing holographic overlay only

I could see. Nicole and Bill’s markers pulsed steadily in the same coastal settlement: still there, still clustered with their father, Hailey, Megan, and the handful of other survivors who’d banded together after the last big storm. No distress signals. No movement away. Just... waiting.

I pushed the speed a fraction higher—wind roaring past us now, tugging at clothes and hair.

Mira moaned again—louder this time, muffled against my neck—as the vibration of the thrusters traveled straight through my body into hers. Her hips rocked in tiny, desperate circles; I felt the heat of her cunt soaking through denim onto my pants, the friction turning every second of flight into slow, torturous foreplay.

Lisa noticed—her hand sliding down to palm Mira’s ass through the belt, squeezing hard.

”Feel that, little wife? Every bump in the air’s fucking you against him. You’re gonna come before we land if you keep grinding like that.”

Angela leaned in closer, lips brushing my ear on the opposite side.

”Make her come mid-flight, husband. I want to hear her scream over the ocean... want the survivors to see us drop out of the sky with three dripping, marked women hanging off you like trophies.”