Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 354: Ant Bit Mira’s Clit

The flames snapped and popped fiercely, their orange flickers caressing Mira's exposed flesh in wavering, seductive glows. Darkness crept along her contours, following the hollow of her midriff, the flare of her hips, the shadowy, alluring patch of hair nestled between her legs.

Compared to the blaze pouring from her form, the fire's warmth seemed mild—her complexion glowed rosy, her bosom heaving in quick, irregular breaths. A fine layer of perspiration shimmered on her neckline, reflecting the blaze like tiny jewels.

The ants had succeeded beyond measure.

She stood ready, her frame turning against her, quivering with each breath, her pelvis twitching uneasily as though chasing contact. The atmosphere hung heavy with her essence—earthy, alluring, the sort of scent that dried my throat and made my shaft pulse hard against my belly.

A slick line of pre-cum was already trickling along my leg, my own body surrendering just like hers.

"Are you finished?" My tone came out as a gravelly rumble, heavy with pretended irritation, even as every fiber buzzed with eagerness.

I tightened my glutes slightly to taunt her, aware she might sneak a peek if bold enough. The idea of her stare on me—even briefly—sparked fresh heat in my blood, my cock jumping sharply.

"Don’t you dare turn around..." Mira shot back, yet her words wavered now, splintering like fragile frost. It mixed order with begging, threaded with a frantic whimper that twisted my mouth into a wicked grin. She seemed diminished, her resistance peeled away, her figure revealed to the flames, the darkness, to me.

Her entire form lay open—her plump, weighty breasts, her peaks stiff and yearning, the gentle arc of her abdomen, the shadowy, thick cluster of curls guarding her thighs.

I spotted the shine of her desire there, the fire's glow highlighting the moisture on her inner legs. My stare held, picturing her flavor, her grip around my length, her depths tightening as she unraveled.

I sharpened my hearing, blocking all but her—the whisper of foliage, a far-off owl's call, all lost under her unsteady inhales, the faint, hungry murmurs from her open mouth.

The faint adjustment of her stance as she remained there, nude and shaking, her form giving her away with each fidgety motion. Her naked soles shuffled anxiously on the ground, her legs parting a bit more, allowing the chill evening breeze to brush her damp, engorged folds.

Then—faint, barely there—the noise of her digits grazing her body.

No longer batting at insects.

Slower. Uncertain.

A slick stroke, a small, playful loop around her nub. My shaft bucked hard, fresh pre-cum oozing from the head, trailing along my length.

She was pleasuring herself, just behind my back, her fingers sliding into that wet warmth, stroking her clit with mischievous taps. I caught the sounds—the gentle, adhesive noise of her wetness, her breath catching as she teased that tender spot.

I honed my awareness, checking her for remaining pests. Most had dropped off, dislodged by her wild shifts, but one lingered.

A lone ant, tucked in the shadowy, tangled hair above her mound, gripping tenaciously to her flesh. My inhale hitched as I observed it, my eyes fixed on her glistening lips, puffy and pink with longing.

A gradual, hunting grin stretched over my features. I issued the order, my intent slicing into its small brain like a dagger.

Bite her.

The ant complied.

Mira's piercing cry sliced the quiet, her frame spasming as the pinch struck her clit. "Aaaaaaaah—!" Her hand darted to her core, parting her folds, her legs shaking as she crouched down, hunting the offender.

I spun to face her, my stare meeting hers. Her gaze raged, mouth agape, face blending anger and shame. "Bastard..." she snarled, tone quaking with wrath. "I’ll kill you..."

I held steady. I kept looking.

I allowed my vision to sweep her slowly, on purpose, relishing how her body responded to my scrutiny. Her tips stiffened further, her legs shivering as she attempted to squeeze them shut, to conceal from me. Yet she failed. She was lost too deep, her form too craving, too desperate.

Flames played between Mira's legs, throwing obscene, dancing shades across her slick, puffed entrance. Her clit throbbed, crimson and swollen from the bite, the dark, moist strands of hair sticking to her skin.

A slender, shiny streak of her juices lined her inner folds, gleaming in the fire as she hunkered, her digits prying herself apart in a wild quest for the pain's origin.

"Fuck!" she moaned, voice hoarse and shaky, breaths ragged and urgent. Her fingers shook as they separated her lips, baring all—the rosy, tender skin of her clit, her opening's gleam, the small drop of fluid at her edge. She leaked steadily, her body exposing her despite her efforts to conceal.

And then I noticed it.

The ant clung on, its jaws sunk into the bloated tissue of her clit. Mira's fingers lunged, smashing the bug between her nails with a fierce snap.

She yanked her hand away like scorched, her body shuddering from the echo of hurt and bliss. Right away, her thighs clamped shut, her other palm rising to shield her chest, as though she could now block my view.

"Bastard!" she shouted, voice breaking with rage and mortification. "How long are you gonna stare?! Turn the hell around—now!"

I stayed put.

Instead, I kept my gaze drifting, noting how her fingers still quivered, how her legs trembled as she forced them closed. My words emerged in a lazy, taunting lilt, laced with phony worry.

"Hey, I’m just concerned about you, Mira." I cocked my head, letting my eyes scan her form with calculated meanness.

"I mean, look at you. Who would even want a woman like this?" I tsked, wagging my head. "You haven’t even bothered to shave down there. It’s so... overgrown. So dirty." I heaved a dramatic breath. "I bet your husband takes one look at this mess and runs the other way. My wife would never let herself go like this."