Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Chapter 73: Becoming Rich

Before surrendering to sleep, I pulled up my Pervert Points—just out of habit—and nearly choked on my own breath. 9,668. Already? A slow, triumphant smirk curled my lips.

I hadn’t even been here a full day, and I’d already stacked enough to ensure I wouldn’t starve, wouldn’t want for anything. The system was generous, and I was good at this.

Curiosity gnawed at me. Had I missed anything? I triggered Pervert Eyes, letting the crimson glow of untapped points bleed into my vision. Kerry and Ada were clean—no lingering dots, no unfinished business.

But Ruth—oh, Ruth. My gaze locked onto her, the faintest crimson sparks clinging to her like a tease. Her lips, still slightly parted from exhausted panting, glowed with untouched potential. And then there were her armpits—delicate, shadowed hollows, untouched, waiting. My fingers itched just thinking about it.

I couldn’t see her asshole or the curve of her asscheeks from this angle, but my memory was sharp. Had I even touched her there? No. Not yet. Which meant those points were still hers to give—still mine to take.

My fingers twitched. I could reach out, wake her just enough to claim the rest... but Ada’s deadweight sprawled across my chest, her breath slow and deep, her tits pressing into me like a living blanket. Moving now would take effort. And Ruth wasn’t going anywhere.

The fire outside had smouldered down, the light which had been fierce had become a dull, pulse-less amber, hardly caressing the sides of the hut. There was the odor of smoke and sex, the odor of musk of cum and sweat sticking to the stone walls.

I sighed and the life out of the day sunk into my bones. My cock, which, yet half-hard with the recollections of the night, was twitching on Ada’s thigh. Something incoherent Kerry muttered in her sleep, her legs were still clenched tight, and her body still recalled the order not to spill it all over.

I made my eyes fall, the blackness behind them teeming--possibilities, promises of warmth, of flesh submitting to my hands, of the gradual, measured dissolution of all the last opposition.

There was still a scent of sex in the air, of sweat and cum and some primitive metallic odour of something possessed. I felt good in my bones, the good kind of tiredness, the kind that comes with full utilization of my body- and exhaustion of others as well.

Sleep now.

Time melted away into nothing, that drowsiness, that sleep, heavy, dreamless, only to follow a night of dissipation. But presently--a voice, low at first, then more and more insistent, and dragging me back to the surface.

”Dexter...” A murmur, such as the fingers on my flesh. ”Dexter... wake up... It’s morning...”

My eyelids went up, with the final drowsiness of sleep. The face of Ada appeared, still made dark by the effects of last night, with shadowed eyes. Her hair was a crazy mess, and stood sticking to the wetness at the back of her neck, and her lips were a little swollen with kisses--or perhaps with the manner in which she had bitten them in order to suppress her moans. She looked used. And she looked satisfied.

Beside me, Kerry stirred, her limbs stretching like a cat waking from a sunbeam. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, as if her body still remembered the weight of me between them.

And then there was Ruth.

Still asleep. Still mine.

Her body was curled against me, her breath slow and even, her skin warm where it pressed against my side. One of her hands rested on my chest, possessive even in sleep. The sight of her like this—innocent, unaware—sent a fresh surge of something dark and possessive through me. She was mine, in a way the others weren’t. Mine to protect. Mine to corrupt. Mine to keep.

I turned my head toward Ada, my voice rough with sleep and something else—something hungrier. ”Mother Ada...”

Kerry sat up, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. ”Dexter... wake Ruth up... It’s time to go for a bath. It’s time.” Her tone was practical, but there was an edge to it, something that hinted at the night we’d all shared. At the things we’d done.

Ada flushed, and looked in my direction and at her daughter. Her shoulders were strained, where it had never been before. She leaned forward, and her voice was reduced to a whisper.

”Dexter...” She was indecisive, and her fingers nearly squeaked on my shoulder. ” Never tell Ruth about your healing seed, or about you putting your cock in us.”

The implication of her words was thick in the air between us. I could read in her eyes the dread not of herself, but of Ruth. To the illusion of chastity still in the mind of her daughter.

”I do not want her to think of you like a different person who put his cock in a dirty woman like us,” Ada said, her voice shook like a leaf in the wind. ”We cannot gauge the response she will have when she finds out that you have slept with someone such as me-someone that she may consider as not worthy.” Her lips steadied in a thin line, and her eyes were flicking about at the sleeping form of Ruth.

”And, I do not want either of you to suffer on account of this, though it might have been a part of healing. And it is better that Ruth should not know about this?”

I nodded slightly in that knowing way of mine, and my mind was already working on the perverted logic of it. Yeah, this was for the best. For now, at least.

Ruth, was my wife--or near enough in this world of the fuck. The one that I was to treat as something precious, as something undiscovered. And nevertheless my cock had put half the night in the cunt of her mother, and her aunt, that little hole of hers, still reeking of my cum like a badge of honor, still.

It should’ve felt wrong.

But here? In this place where desire wasn’t just accepted—it was fucking rewarded—it didn’t. If anything, it made me feel like a goddamn king.

I glanced at Ada again, my eyes dragging over her body like a man starving. She was a milf—thick in all the right places, her tits heavy, her hips built for gripping while I fucked her raw. And Kerry? Fuck, she’d taken me like she’d been waiting for it, her pussy clenching around my cock like she never wanted me to pull out.

But Ruth?

She was still passed out beside me, her breath soft, her body warm against mine. Innocent. Or at least, she played at it. The thought of her finding out—of her realizing just how deep I’d been inside her mother, how hard I’d fucked her aunt—should’ve made me feel guilty.

It didn’t.

It made my cock twitch.

Because let’s be real—Ruth was mine. But Ada and Kerry? They were mine too. And if that made me a sick fuck for wanting them all?

Good.

I liked the taste of sin.