Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 356: Mira’s Challenge: Explain That Hard-On

Mira's cheeks flushed an intense scarlet, the color creeping down her throat and over the upper parts of her bare breasts.

Instinctively, her hands shot upward, pressing against the full mounds as if that tiny action might hide the signs of her excitement—the hardened, dark peaks straining against her flesh, the quick heave of her bosom, the tight squeeze of her legs where the muscles quivered.

A faint layer of perspiration shimmered in the valley between her breasts, reflecting the flames like molten treasure.

"S-Shut up!" she whispered harshly, though the phrase emerged broken and gasping, more like a desperate request than an order. Her tone broke at the end, giving her away.

A deep, sinister laugh escaped my throat, echoing softly in the narrow gap between us and causing her to recoil slightly.

Rather than sliding back to rest against the wall as she had earlier, Mira spun away abruptly. She showed me the graceful arch of her back, the subtle curve at her waist, the flawless rounded cheeks of her rear. Now she faced the opposite side, legs pulled close, arms locked around her form in a pointless effort to conceal what I'd already viewed—and savored.

Silence filled the space for what felt like ages, broken only by the snap of the flames and our ragged breaths.

Then, her words came out strained with shamed rage, without her turning to look.

"If you breathe a word of what went on here... I'll cut you off, Dexter. I mean it, I swear."

Her warning lingered in the atmosphere, biting yet absurd considering how completely she'd unraveled under me just moments before.

Reclining on my palms, my shaft remained semi-erect and shiny amid my parted legs, I allowed the quiet to drag on until it made her fidget.

At last, I scoffed, pouring feigned scorn into my voice as best I could.

"Hmph. Like I'd ever tarnish my name by confessing I witnessed something so... nasty." I stretched the final term, infusing it with over-the-top disdain. "You're the one who ought to plead for my silence."

Mira's posture went rigid. She snapped her head around, her black locks whipping against her face.

"You..." she growled, gaze fiery, mouth open in fury.

That lone syllable lashed out like a strike.

I locked eyes with her boldly, a gradual, wolfish grin forming on my lips.

"You what, Mira?" I teased in a gentle murmur.

Her inhalation hitched clearly. I caught the instant the recollection hit her full force—the dilation of her eyes, the shiver running along her back, the firmer clench of her thighs as if to hold in the lingering throb.

Mira's abrupt eruption cut the thick hush like a blunt edge—crude, protective, and quaking with emotions much more profound than mere wrath. She remained turned from me, legs clutched so firmly to her torso that her fingers paled, yet her tone bore the burden of all the doubts I'd stirred to life.

"Fuck off..." she grumbled under her breath at first. Then, more forcefully and cutting: "Hmph... are you truly repulsed by a woman simply for not trimming below? Then you'll soon feel the same about your wife... since there's no way to get food here... let alone shave. It'll just be wild growth down there too."

Mira's derisive snort sliced through the popping stillness—a brief, victorious noise, as if she'd struck a telling hit at last. Her frame loosened a bit, the tension fading slightly like I'd granted her the edge she'd been fighting for.

Yet I had more to say.

I held the quiet a beat longer, enough for her minor success to settle in.

After that, I replied, my tone deep and measured, each phrase falling like a pebble into calm depths.

"Well... you might be right..."

She exhaled sharply once more, this time milder—nearly a chuckle, laced with resentment and relief.

I shifted nearer, near enough for my warm exhale to tease the moist hairs at her neck's base.

"But that doesn't mean I'd ever lay a finger on that nasty part of yours."

Tension crackled in the space separating us.

Fueled by rage, Mira whirled to confront me with a fierce stare. Her tiny cheer choked off abruptly.

"Who wants you to touch it..." she shot back, her pitch rising with anger and a hint of raw pain. "No—no one asked you to stare at it!"

The phrases poured from her in a hurried stream, shielding, nearly frantic. Her palms darted downward toward her legs once more—not fully guarding, merely lingering, as if to block the echo of my lips on her from before.

In a quick pivot, Mira faced away again, hunching her form as though she might vanish into the dimness by the wall. Her limbs folded across her front, legs hiked up, attempting to protect every bit of exposed flesh from my eyes—but it proved pointless.

The dancing flames showed no pity, highlighting the gloss of moisture on her shoulders, the subtle shake in her legs, the persistent shine on those ebony strands between her thighs from our prior acts.

She let out a puff—a brief, irritated noise intended to brush it off—but it held a throaty undertone, a flirtatious twist that exposed her fully.

"Hmph... you're calling me repulsive, so why are you still so erect?"

The bold phrase emerged sudden and startling, suspended in the hazy air like a challenge. My eyebrows rose in real astonishment.

This was fresh—Mira, who had vowed to unman me earlier, now hurling my excitement right back at me with that mocking, nearly frolicsome edge in her speech.

A husky, rolling laugh rumbled from me as I inched forward until my knees nudged the rear of her legs. My length—sturdy, unyielding, ridges prominent in the wavering light—swayed weightily with the shift, the tip already wet and darkened. I made no move to conceal it. No need.

"I never claimed your figure isn't sexy," I whispered, my voice turning grittier, more intense. "And those breasts..."

My eyes swept intentionally over the profile of her chest, partially overflowing her folded arms, peaks firm and inviting even as she tried to bury them. "Damn. They're the size of my wife's. Plump. Weighty. Ideal for my grip. For my tongue."

I drew closer, so near she sensed my radiating warmth, the graze of my breath on her lobe.

"And unlike your husband, I'm no impotent fool," I went on, letting the statement settle gradually and pointedly.