Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 252: Meeting Milf Doctor

The musky, sweet scent of Jennifer’s arousal still clung to my toes, a lingering reminder of her pussy as I finished the last of my breakfast.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I let my gaze settle on Emily. Her lips remained swollen from our earlier passion, and her eyes sparkled with a touch of innocence.

I reached out to cup her face, pulling her in to crush my lips against hers one last time. My tongue forced its way past her teeth, claiming her mouth. She let out a soft moan, her body turning to liquid against mine as her fingers desperately gripped my shirt.

My thumb brushed over her bruised-looking lips while I held her face in my hand. "Be a good girl while I’m gone," I growled, my voice thick with a dark promise.

Once more, I slammed my mouth against hers, my tongue plunging deep to claim her in a messy, wet kiss. Emily whimpered, her nails clawing at my clothes as she arched her body into mine. When I finally pulled away, she was left gasping for air, her lips wet with saliva and her eyes wide with desperate need.

"I’ll be back soon," I whispered, my tone heavy with intent. "And when I return, I’m fucking you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight for a week."

Emily let out a small whimper, pressing her thighs together tightly. Her pussy was undoubtedly throbbing beneath the table. "Don’t take too long," she breathed, her voice turning husky with desire.

I flashed a grin and adjusted the growing bulge in my trousers before heading for the exit. Even as the morning sun warmed my face, my thoughts were trapped by the memory of Jennifer’s tight, used asshole, the way she had dripped for me, and how she had begged for me to fuck her harder.

The Research & Development building loomed ahead, a massive monolith of steel and glass reflecting the sunlight. The surrounding air seemed to vibrate with energy, characterized by the low hum of heavy machinery and the constant buzz of scientific work.

I marched toward the entrance, my boots crunching rhythmically on the gravel. My hand rested instinctively on the grip of my gun—a comforting weight that served as a constant reminder of the power I held.

A pair of guards stood at the door like pillars, their stances rigid and their gazes sharp. The one on the left was a burly man with a thick scar slicing from his temple down to his jaw, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

The second guard was leaner, his fingers moving rapidly over a tablet. He flicked his eyes up to meet mine as I drew near.

"ID," the scarred guard grunted, his voice sounding like grinding gravel.

I pulled out my identification and flipped it open for them. The guard grabbed it roughly, scanning the text before shoving it back at me. "Purpose?" he asked, his eyes drifting toward the weapon at my hip.

"Reporting to Doctor Angela," I answered, keeping my voice cool and steady.

The two guards exchanged a brief look before the leaner one nodded, tapping a final command into his device. "Your info checks out," he said gruffly. "Get inside. Go straight into the lab, then take a left down the hall. Her office is the last door on the right."

I gave a short nod, biting back a smirk. Just as I expected. My father-in-law had already pulled the necessary strings to clear my path. The old man certainly knew how to manipulate things to his advantage. I pushed through the entrance, greeted by the sterile, chilled air of the facility.

The interior was a sprawling labyrinth of gleaming white hallways and vibrating equipment. Scientists wearing white coats hurried past me, their expressions intense as they clutched digital tablets and clipboards. The air was a sharp mix of ozone and antiseptic, thick with the weight of intellectual secrets.

I followed the guard's directions, the sound of my boots echoing off the polished floor tiles. The main lab was a hive of frantic activity, with microscopes shimmering under bright lights and test tubes filled with bubbling, colorful liquids. Nobody bothered to look at me; they were far too buried in their data to notice a predator walking among them.

Eventually, I reached the corridor and turned left, stopping before a door marked with a sleek nameplate: Dr. Angela, Head of Bio Research. I knocked firmly, the sound sharp and commanding.

"Come in," a voice called out—smooth, mature, and laced with a clear sense of arrogance.

I pushed the door open and entered the office, the sight before me making my breath hitch.

Fucking hell.

Doctor Angela was a masterpiece. She sat behind a massive desk with a commanding, upright posture. Her skin was a flawless, snow-white tone that glowed under the office lights like polished marble.

Her blonde hair was pulled back into a sophisticated, tight bun, highlighting her sharp jawline and high cheekbones. However, it was her body that truly demanded attention—voluptuous and curved in all the right places, built for pure sin.

Her lab coat was stretched to its limit over her massive tits, the buttons struggling to hold back their heavy weight.

The fabric strained against her cleavage, offering a glimpse of the deep valley between them, her breasts appearing ready to spill out with the slightest move.

My cock twitched violently as I imagined my hands squeezing those tits, my mouth on her nipples, and my teeth sinking in just enough to draw a moan from her.

She had a narrow, cinched waist that flared out into wide hips made for child-bearing, begging to be gripped and ruined. The lab coat stopped at her mid-thigh, showing off legs clad in sheer black stockings. They led down to a pair of "fuck-me" heels that clicked against the floor as she adjusted her position.

She looked up from her tablet, locking her piercing blue eyes onto mine. They were cold and analytical, yet I could see something else beneath the surface—a predatory heat and hunger that mirrored my own.

"You must be Mike," she purred, her voice as rich and smooth as expensive whiskey. "Oliver’s son-in-law."

I closed the door behind me, the sound of the lock clicking shut echoing in the quiet room. My eyes traveled slowly over her body, lingering on how the coat hugged her curves and how her tits rose and fell with each breath. "That’s me," I answered, my voice low and dark with promise. "And you’re Doctor Angela."

She placed the tablet on the desk and leaned back, steepling her fingers. The movement caused her coat to shift, revealing a hint of black lace underneath—a bra that could barely contain her breasts. The fabric was stretched tight over her nipples, which were hard and clearly begging for attention.

"I’ve heard quite a bit about you," she murmured, her eyes appraising me and lingering on the bulge in my pants. "Mostly good things. Mostly."

I took a step toward her desk, my presence dominating the small space. The scent of her perfume—a mix of expensive flowers and a touch of spice—reached me, blending with the sterile lab air. It was absolutely intoxicating.