Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 344: A Military Plane

Dawn's initial rays pierced the thick foliage overhead, sending golden beams dancing over the open space. The atmosphere felt fresh and chilly, carrying the aroma of morning dew and soil mixed with the lingering trace of embers from the fading campfire.

Beside me, Angela rested, her breathing even and calm, her form nestled close to mine. The persistent bulge in my groin nudged against her, insistent and unyielding.

I moved slightly, my eyelids lifting to catch her gaze fixed on the wet patch where my saliva had stained her top.

Without giving her a chance to respond, I moved forward, claiming her mouth with a gentle kiss that soon intensified as she reciprocated, her lips meeting mine with intense, eager force.

She let out a quiet, airy sigh, her face turning a rich crimson while she inched nearer, her frame reacting naturally, curving to fit perfectly against me.

Laughter bubbled up from deep within me as I drew away, my hand gliding along the line of her chin. "Morning, sleeping beauty," I whispered, my tone gravelly from slumber and a hint of something more intense, shadowy.

A sly smile played on Angela's lips, her stare sparkling with playfulness. "You drool," she joked, her words low and laced with humor.

"And you like it," I countered with a broad smile, drawing her to her feet, her shape clinging to me briefly before I rose fully, extending my limbs broadly as the early sunlight heated my flesh.

Lisa had stirred earlier, propped against a trunk with limbs folded, her expression alight with entertainment as she observed our exchange.

"Took you long enough," she said softly, her manner wry and poking fun. "I was starting to think I’d have to pour water on you two."

My laughter rang out as I shook my head, surveying the area. The other members of our party were up, clustered near the sparse provisions they'd gathered. Their features looked weary and strained, fingers gripping tiny portions—a single cookie, a packet of crisps, one candy bar. Just one per person. No extras.

Lisa stepped away from the bark, approaching to stand with us, her words hushed and lighthearted. "They divided it up like starving animals." She lifted her shoulders casually, her voice matter-of-fact.

"One thing each. Equal shares." Her mouth curved into a sardonic grin. "Pathetic, isn’t it?"

Angela snorted derisively, folding her arms while eyeing the cluster. "They act like they’ve won something." Her tone cut sharp and scornful. "Like sharing a chocolate bar makes them heroes."

The early glow shattered with an abrupt, strange radiance—a throbbing emerald gleam in the heavens, wavering like a fading celestial body.

Quiet blanketed the glade as the castaways halted in their chewing, stares shooting skyward, expressions contorted in bewilderment and alarm.

"What the hell is that?" one fellow gasped out, his words fracturing under terror.

"It looks like it’s closing..." another grumbled, his digits clawing into the soil, joints blanched.

The verdant glow throbbed erratically, blinking as if a rip in the heavens' weave. Then—action.

A compact, streamlined jet from the armed forces, shadowy and without insignia, erupted from the gap, bucking wildly as though snagged by some unseen force. Its motors coughed, vapor streaming after it like a perishing meteor.

"Oh SHIT—!" Raj yelled, jabbing a finger, his complexion ashen. "It’s crashing!"

The aircraft veered, twisting earthward, its frame wailing like a wounded creature. The group dispersed in panic, seeking shelter, cries ripping through the atmosphere.

The terrain quaked when the jet collided with the ground past the woods' border, alloy shrieking, earth bursting in a huge cloud.

Silence.

Then—mayhem.

"IS ANYONE ALIVE IN THERE?!" Paul bellowed, charging toward the debris, his healer's drive overpowering his dread. He scaled mangled steel, palms quivering yet resolute. "HEY! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"

"PAUL, DON’T!" Nicole shrieked, clutching her mom's limb, her visage drained of color in fright. "What if it explodes?!"

Mira wavered, her sight bouncing between the smoldering ruin and her child, her features knotted in turmoil. "Paul—be careful!" she called out, though her cry drowned in the uproar.

"We need to help!" Hailey sobbed, advancing already, her fingers shaking but firm.

"NO!" Megan snapped, seizing Hailey’s arm. "We don’t know what’s in there! It could be dangerous!"

"Dangerous?!" Jason derided, pressing on despite his anxiety. "There could be supplies in there! Weapons! Food! We can’t just leave it!"

"Or it could be a trap," Lena whispered fiercely, her eyes bulging. "What if it’s not one of ours? What if it’s them—the ones who did this to us?!"

The castaways lingered near the glade's boundary, their countenances blending terror, intrigue, and yearning. The jet moaned, alloy shifting, wisps of vapor ascending heavenward.

And then—a noise.

A faint, wheezing hack from the ruins.

"SOMEONE’S ALIVE!" Hailey exclaimed, her pitch shrill with astonishment.

Paul wasted no time. He dashed ahead, scrambling across the warped metal, his tone pressing. "HEY! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"

The others trailed after, cautiously at first, pulled by grim interest and a slim chance of rescue.

I stayed put. Leaning on a trunk with arms folded, I felt entertained. "Well," I said under my breath, my inflection subdued and ominous, "this just got interesting."

Angela's face lit with a grin, her look shining with thrill. "Think there’s anything useful in there?" She cocked her head, observing the group rush to the debris.

Lisa snickered, flexing her fingers. "Only one way to find out." Her eyes shifted toward me.

I lifted my shoulders indifferently, swallowing a leisurely gulp from my beverage. "Doesn’t matter." My grin warped. "One way or another, it will be ours now."

"Dexter," Angela said softly, her tone sly and provoking, "you think they’ll find something good?"

"Oh, they’ll find something," I answered, my focus fixed on the wreckage. "The question is whether they’ll live long enough to use it."

Lisa burst into laughter, tossing her head. "You’re evil."

"And you love it," I retorted, flashing a smile.

"CAREFUL!" Megan yelled, shoving past the throng. "We don’t know if it’s stable!"

"It’s not gonna blow!" Jason retorted sharply, yanking at a bent sheet. "It’s been minutes!"

"Unless it’s booby-trapped!" Lena spat, clutching his wrist. "We don’t know anything about this thing!"

Paul paid no mind, delving into the control area. "HELLO?!" he shouted, his call reverberating in the tight confines. "Can you hear me?!"

A feeble moan replied.

"SOMEONE’S IN HERE!" Hailey wailed, her voice quaking with elation.

"Paul, WAIT!" Megan hollered, but too late—Paul was hauling aside the rubble to get to the flyer.

The pilot was alive.

A fellow in a shredded armed forces outfit, his visage smeared with blood, respiration faint. His lids fluttered, sight blurry and disoriented.

"Who—who’s there?" he croaked, his words scarce.

"We’re friends," Paul fibbed, his hands poised above the fellow's injuries. "You’re safe now."

The pilot hacked, crimson spotting his mouth. "No..." he breathed. "None of us is safe..."

A shiver swept the glade.

"What do you mean?" Megan pressed, her voice piercing.