Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 319: Stuck Inside Womb

"Mr. Dexter, please remain still—! Mrs. Nathalie, do not move—!" Anya cried out, her fingers hovering anxiously over Nathalie’s quivering thighs. Her breath was coming in sharp, frantic gasps. "This—this shouldn’t be possible—! You have to try and relax—!"

Arching my back as if gripped by agony, I let out another pained groan. "D-Doctor, it hurts so much—!" I whimpered, making sure my voice cracked convincingly.

"It’s pulling me in—! I can’t breathe—!" Inside Nathalie, my cock pulsed rhythmically. I forced a choked sob and dug my fingers into the examination table. "P-please, you have to help me—!"

Nathalie’s breathing was ragged. Her cheeks burned with a deep sense of humiliation as she continued to play her part in the charade.

"D-Doctor, he’s stuck—!" she wailed, her voice shaking. "His cock—it’s locked inside of me—!" She squirmed once more, her body still hypersensitive from her recent release, her fluids dripping onto the table below.

With trembling hands, Anya reached out until her fingers brushed against Nathalie’s skin. "Mrs. Nathalie, you need to push—!" she commanded, her voice a wavering mixture of professional urgency and a much more shameful emotion. "Try to expel him—!"

Letting out a desperate whimper, Nathalie tensed her body and pretended to strain. Her face was contorted, caught between genuine embarrassment and faux effort. "I—I can’t—!" she sobbed, squirming beneath me as her voice cracked.

"It’s too deep—! He’s hitting my womb—!" Her nails clawed at the surface of the table. Her breath hitched when my cock pulsed inside her once more, leaving her body trembling under the perceived strain.

Then, in a moment of absolute mortification, a loud, wet pffft resonated throughout the room.

Nathalie’s face turned a deep crimson. "N-no—!" she gasped. Her eyes went wide with horror as that humiliating sound broke the silence.

"I—I didn’t mean to do that—!" Her voice was thick with shame. She froze entirely, looking as though she wanted to sink into the table and vanish.

Anya had been hovering nearby, her expression a conflict of clinical concern and something far more primal—arousal. Suddenly, she seemed to snap into action.

"Let... me... help," she muttered. Her voice was tight, strained by frustration and a growing heat. Stepping forward, she grasped Nathalie’s hips firmly. With a strong grip, she adjusted Nathalie’s position, angling her body to make it easier for me to slide out.

And then—PLOP.

With an obscene, wet noise, my cock slid free. It glistened, coated in Nathalie’s arousal and my own cum. The sudden release caused Nathalie to let out a sharp, choked gasp, her body sagging weakly against Anya’s supportive hands.

"Aaaah—!" she whimpered. She quickly covered her face with her hands, her cheeks still burning with shame.

Anya’s breath hitched. Her fingers remained clamped on Nathalie’s hips, her own frame shaking slightly. A heavy, suffocating silence filled the room, disturbed only by our uneven breathing. Anya’s eyes darted between Nathalie’s flushed features and my cock, which remained semi-erect and shiny with their combined fluids.

"Mrs. Nathalie," Anya said, her voice strained as she fought to regain her professional air, "are you alright?"

Still hiding behind her hands, Nathalie nodded frantically. "Y-yes, Doctor," she stammered. Her fingers trembled as she finally revealed her face, though she refused to meet Anya’s eyes. "I—I’m so sorry—"

Anya adjusted her glasses. Her professional mask was slowly being reconstructed, even if her fingers still betrayed her with a slight tremor.

"Mr. Dexter has calmed down for the moment," she stated. Her voice was steady, yet it carried an unreadable undercurrent—perhaps frustration, or maybe even a touch of fascination.

She looked at me and then back to Nathalie, her expression kept carefully neutral. "However, the hypothesis remains unconfirmed. We still haven't determined if actual penetration is a requirement for relief, or if simple external stimulation would be sufficient."

I sighed heavily and rubbed the back of my neck, putting on a show of genuine remorse. "I’m truly sorry, Doctor," I said, my voice dripping with fake embarrassment.

"It’s just... at that moment, I lost control. The pain was unbearable, and then—" I trailed off, glancing briefly at Nathalie before looking down at the floor. "I just... I pushed inside without thinking."

Anya let out a slow exhale, her fingers tapping a rhythm against her clipboard. "It is alright, Mr. Dexter," she replied, though her tone held a hint of something like intrigue.

"This is a medical concern, after all. We must find the root cause of the problem." She turned her focus to Nathalie, who was gripping the tube of ointment as if it were a lifeline.

"The previous prescription won't be necessary now, as it was clearly ineffective. However, Mrs. Nathalie, you must apply this ointment to the swollen area twice daily. It should assist in reducing the inflammation."

Nathalie nodded quickly, her voice barely audible. "Y-yes, Doctor," she stammered, her grip tightening on the tube. "I will do exactly as you say."

Anya’s gaze softened for a brief second, though her clinical demeanor held firm. "Good. I want to see both of you again in two days. We will re-evaluate the situation then and determine the next course of action." She paused, her eyes searching ours. "Is that acceptable to you both?"

A silent understanding passed between Nathalie and me as we shared a quick look. "Yes, Doctor," Nathalie whispered, her voice still a bit shaky.

I nodded in agreement, keeping my expression neutral. "We will be here," I promised, though my thoughts were already racing toward our next meeting.

The hospital’s automatic doors hissed open, letting the evening air wash over us as we stepped out. Nathalie’s legs were still weak, and she trembled slightly as we walked toward the parking lot. I slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close to keep her steady.

"Are you okay?" I asked. My voice sounded concerned, though there was a definite edge of amusement in my tone. "You’re still shaking."

Nathalie leaned her weight into me, her breathing still uneven. "I-I’m fine," she murmured, though her embarrassment was plain to hear.

"It’s just... a lot to take in." She looked up at me, her cheeks still pink. "Dexter, you certainly know how to make things... interesting."

I laughed softly and gave her waist a gentle squeeze. "Well, we had to test the doctor’s theory, didn't we?" I teased. My smirk grew as I recalled Anya’s face. "Besides, I suspect Dr. Anya enjoyed that more than she's willing to admit."

Nathalie let out a soft, tired laugh and hid her face against my shoulder. "You are impossible," she whispered, though I could hear the smile in her voice. "But I won't lie... it was thrilling."

We walked on slowly, the weight of what had happened hanging between us. The parking lot was nearly deserted, with the streetlights casting long, distorted shadows on the ground. Nathalie gripped the ointment tightly, her mind clearly lingering on the events inside the clinic.

"Do you really think she'll help us?" Nathalie asked softly, her voice a mix of hope and doubt.