Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 317: Nathalie’s Pussy Juice

"I k-know, Doctor!" I cried out, my voice cracking with emotion. "B-but it isn't! The condition is worsening! P-please, you have to do something!" Another groan escaped my lips as my hips bucked upward from the table, my cock hitting my stomach with a wet slapping sound.

"Oh, she’s completely hooked," I noted internally, my smirk widening behind the cover of my hands. "She is incapable of looking away."

Anya’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes wide as she stared fixedly at my cock, her mind clearly spinning with chaotic thoughts.

Suddenly turning, she grabbed a fresh tissue and shoved it toward Nathalie. Nathalie remained frozen on the spot, her face still splattered with my cum, her expression a chaotic blend of sheer shock and deep embarrassment.

"Mrs. Nathalie, clean yourself up," Anya barked, her voice shaking with a frustration she could barely hide.

Nathalie’s fingers shook uncontrollably as she pressed the tissue against her skin, her cheeks flushed with the heat of humiliation. The room felt increasingly cramped, the air heavy with tension and a feeling far more scandalous—arousal.

"Y-yes, Doctor," she whispered so softly it was barely a sound. Her eyes darted back and forth between Anya and me, unable to hold anyone's gaze.

I released another low, agonizing moan, my body arching off the examination table as if I were in the throes of torture. Turning toward Nathalie this time, my voice trembled with sheer desperation. "W-wife... p-please," I stammered, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the paper-covered table.

"I c-can’t endure this anymore. The pain is too much. If you don’t help me, I—I truly think I might die."

My cock throbbed violently, veins bulging prominently against my heated skin, the head swollen and slick with pre-cum. The display was almost scandalous, my length twitching as if possessed by its own will.

Anya’s breath hitched, her eyes glued to my pulsing erection. Her professional composure slipped even further, and her voice wavered slightly as she spoke. "Mr. Dexter," she started, her tone a mix of irritation and a much more compelling scientific curiosity.

"Is it true that you can only find relief once you’ve ejaculated inside your wife?" Her eyes flicked down to my cock before returning to my face, her cheeks reddening with a combination of indignation and fascination.

I let out a choked sob, my voice breaking with fake desperation. "D-doctor, I—I don’t know," I stammered, my frame shaking as if I were about to collapse.

"But I—I always ejaculate inside my wife before the relief comes. It’s the only thing that—that stops the agony." My cock gave another twitch as if to confirm my words, a bead of pre-cum rolling down its side.

Nathalie’s eyes widened, her breath catching as she seemed to reach a realization. Her voice was a mere whisper, her fingers twisting together in a nervous knot.

"I... I think I see now," she murmured, her face burning.

"Perhaps it isn't just the act itself... maybe it’s the—the fluid from my body that calms him down."

She looked toward Anya, her voice trembling. "Then... perhaps penetration isn't actually required. There might be another way to—to fix this."

Anya’s expression changed, her professional mask wavering for a second as she weighed Nathalie’s suggestion.

She moved closer, her gaze fixed on my still-throbbing cock, her voice softening while carrying a trace of shameful intrigue.

"Mrs. Nathalie," she said, her tone controlled but betraying a hint of fascination, "you might be correct. If the secretions from your genitals are the trigger for his relief, then penetration may not be a necessity."

She paused, her eyes lingering on Nathalie’s red face. "We can attempt to rub his—his private part against your genitals. If your fluids drip onto him, it might suffice to trigger his ejaculation and end his pain."

Nathalie’s face deepened to an even darker shade of crimson, her hands shaking as she clutched the tissue to her chest. "D-doctor, this..." she stammered, her voice nearly silent, her eyes darting toward my cock. It pulsed again, almost as if it were mocking her shame.

"I.... I don’t know if I can—" Her voice cracked, her breathing turning into short, ragged gasps.

I let out another pained cry, my body arching off the table as if in genuine torment. "P-please, wife," I whimpered, my voice breaking as my cock twitched desperately.

"I can’t bear it anymore. It hurts so badly. I—I need you." My words were saturated with desperation, my frame shaking as if I were on the brink of losing all control.

Anya’s gaze shifted between Nathalie and me, her expression a conflict between professional duty and something far more primal—arousal. "Mrs. Nathalie," she said, her voice gentle yet demanding, "this is the only way to assist him. Do you understand?" She took another step forward, her eyes locked onto Nathalie’s blushing face.

"Penetration isn't required. Simply rub his cock against your genitals. Allow your fluid to drip onto him. Once he reaches ejaculation, he should recover."

Nathalie’s breath hitched, her fingers twisting together anxiously. "Y-yes, Doctor," she whispered, her voice shaking. She turned toward me, her eyes reflecting a mix of humiliation and resolve.

"D-Dexter, lie down," she said softly, her hands trembling as she reached for the hem of her dress.

I exhaled a shuddering breath, my body shaking as I settled back onto the examination table, my cock still pulsing painfully.

Nathalie’s fingers hovered over me, her touch cautious but warm as she began raising her dress, her cheeks hot with shame. The atmosphere in the room felt electric, charged with a tension that was nearly suffocating.

Anya watched in silence, her expression unreadable, though her eyes never strayed from us. Her breathing was short and shallow, her fingers gripping the clipboard so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "Mrs. Nathalie," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "just focus on aiding your husband. It is for the sake of his health."

Nathalie nodded, her breath coming in uneven gasps as she finally pulled up her dress, revealing her thighs. Her fingers shook as she positioned herself, her embarrassment clearly visible.

"D-Doctor, I-I’m ready," she whispered, her voice almost inaudible, her eyes clamped shut as if she couldn't stand to witness her own actions.

Anya’s eyes flicked to my cock, which gave another pulse, as if anticipating what was coming. "Mrs. Nathalie," she said, her voice soft but steady, "guide him to you. Allow his cock to rub against your genitals. That ought to be enough."

Nathalie’s breath hitched, her trembling fingers reaching for me, her touch hesitant but warm. "D-Dexter," she whispered, her voice quivering, "come closer."

I released another pained groan, my hips rising slightly from the table as Nathalie steered my cock toward her. The second the sensitive head touched her warm, wet folds, I let out a choked "Aaaah—!"

My cock pulsed violently, the sensation nearly overwhelming. Nathalie’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening around me as she began to rub my cock against herself, her fluids already slicking my length.

Anya’s breathing became short and sharp, her eyes locked onto the display before her. "Mrs. Nathalie," she murmured, her voice a faint whisper, "keep going. It’s working."