Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 375: Olivia & Nancy 2

"Mr. Dexter," she uttered, clearing her throat while striving to adopt her professional demeanor, "the therapy device is perfectly aligned now. We suggest you... go ahead with penetration to evaluate the fit and your release reaction. Keep a consistent pace—around 1.5 to 2 strokes per second to start—and target complete entry to activate the inner patterns."

Yet her statement faltered at the boundaries. Her gaze remained fixed on the engorged, violet tip of my shaft, which still shone from brushing her mouth.

A small drop of my pre-cum lingered on her bottom lip; she swept it off once more—deliberately, unhurried—before realizing and clamping her lips tightly together.

Nancy moved to my opposite side, holding her clipboard against her chest as if for protection, even as her fingers gripped it pale and her breaths came clearly. "From a scientific viewpoint," she chimed in, her tone pitched higher than normal, "the device’s core temperature is set to 37.2°C, featuring self-moistening passages that replicate genuine excitement."

"You’ll encounter... notable pushback initially, then... pulsing squeezes. It’s built to imitate... to imitate actual sensations very persuasively." Her final phrase emerged airy, nearly inaudible. She gulped forcefully. "Extremely persuasively."

Olivia nudged me ahead by another short step, her palm still encircling the sturdy root—fingers barely connecting, thumb placed commandingly along the throbbing vessel.

The lubricated tip touched the doll’s spread synthetic folds; they gave way right away, separating with a gentle, damp squelch as the initial segment slid inside. "Enter gradually to begin," Olivia directed, but her voice lowered, growing throaty.

"Sense the way the opening clings... how it quivers against the ridge... exactly like... just like a genuine pussy tightening when it craves more." She halted, face burning as the crude term escaped. "I—I meant, when it’s... at peak arousal. For precise measurements."

Nancy let out a faint, stifled noise and adjusted her stance, squeezing her legs tightly until her uniform rustled softly. "Right," she uttered with effort.

"Watch how the device’s inner bumps interact during the withdrawal. They’re shaped to... to draw out the shaft. To promote... sustained hardness and greater fluid production." Her clipboard shook a bit. "Heavens, it’s already swallowing you so far... see the way the material expands around your thickness..."

I let out a deep rumble while burying more length—the doll’s artificial channel warm, undulating, contracting in scripted rhythms that seemed incredibly real.

Olivia’s grip remained on me throughout, gliding along the shaft with each push, her digits coated in the excess pre-cum dripping steadily from the end.

"Further in, Mr. Dexter," she encouraged, her composed facade crumbling once more. "Go all the way. Let it experience your entire girth... force it to accept everything like an obedient sex plaything—damn, I mean medical tool. Drive until your sack rests fully against it. We must... we must record the deepest insertion."

From behind, Nathalie released a muffled cry of envy. Her digits plunged three into her soaked slit now, thumb rubbing her nub in wild loops as Anya—remaining on her knees—stared with shadowed, dazed eyes, one hand idly cradling her chest beneath her lab coat.

"Olivia... you damn slut," Nathalie panted, her pelvis jerking. "Quit handling his shaft... quit directing him... that’s my spouse’s cock... my seed is still dripping from my ruined rear, and you’re pumping him like you’re up next..."

Anya breathed out unsteadily, at last voicing. "Concentrate, all of you," she attempted, even though her tone was ruined. "This remains... strictly for observation. Mr. Dexter, speed up. We require data on... release power and amount. Nancy, ready the sample container in case of excess."

Nancy groped for a tiny clean vial on the nearby surface, yet her focus locked on the spot where Olivia’s palm now frankly caressed me in sync with my drives into the doll—deliberate strokes aligning with the slick slurp of synthetic being penetrated.

"Lord... see how it’s holding him," Nancy murmured, abandoning decorum for a moment.

"With each retreat, the synthetic folds stick... as if reluctant to release... damn, I hear the moisture building within her..."

Olivia’s respiration caught. She bent nearer, her face—marked by a light crimson trace and a shiny pre-cum line—grazing my side. "Stronger now," she pressed, her words raw lust cloaked in medical pretense.

"Thrust fiercely. Shake the device. Demonstrate how you wreck a snug passage... how you fill it till it spills over. For... for documentation."

My pelvis drove ahead more forcefully on the following stroke—hitting bottom with a damp smack of flesh against synthetic. The doll’s ample breasts bounced; hidden motors buzzed stronger, gripping in eager throbs around my length.

Nathalie climaxed ahead of the rest—stimulated solely by her own touch—spine curving from the chair, a sharp, fractured wail bursting from her as her core squirted new wetness onto Anya’s prepared palm.

"Dexter... damn... don’t release inside her... release in me... beg you... my rear remains gaping... still pulsing for your true essence..."

The space melted into raw, indecent fervor—damp plunges, harsh gasps, fading pretenses, and the lewd chorus of four females shedding all control as I plowed a mannequin mere inches from my dripping, pleading partner.

Nancy moved in back of me after abandoning any illusion of detachment. Her limbs encircled my midsection—tentative initially, nearly shy, then clenching with abrupt, urgent desire. Her uniform shirt molded to my exposed back, the flimsy cloth already moist from her perspiration, her full mounds yielding warmly against me.

"Mr. Dexter," she breathed directly into my ear, her voice quivering to the point of breaking on each word, "allow... allow me to assist you. For... for proper... posture. Right. That’s... that’s precisely it."

In that same instant, her pelvis shifted ahead.

She molded herself tight to my rear, legs framing mine, and ground—nothing else described it. A deliberate, rubbing press that shoved my shaft an extra solid segment into the doll’s glossy synthetic passage.

The action lacked discretion; her hips swayed in brief, eager jabs, compelling me onward with every motion. Each sway of her body made the doll receive me more intensely, profoundly, the damp slurp of pre-cum and synthetic resounding more sharply.

Her air came in warm, halting puffs on my nape. "I—I’m just... just aiding with... with drive dynamics," she faltered, yet the phrase melted into a soft, fractured groan as she rubbed more firmly.

"The... the positioning is... is inadequate without... without extra... oh lord, you’re so buried in her now... I sense it... sense how you’re widening that... that artificial tight spot..."

Her palms glided along my flanks—intended for balance, obviously—then seized my sides as if dreading my retreat. One hand pressed flat on my abdomen, digits spreading broad, shaking as she drew me rearward into her to enable another forward hump.

The pattern grew: rub, drive, rub, drive—each driving me fully embedded for an instant before permitting a pullback, only to ram deeper the following.

Olivia’s fingers clung to the root of my shaft—now glossy and wet—striving to uphold her "direction" duty even while Nancy propelled me into the doll from the rear.