Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 396: Angela’s Dare: Watch Them Piss

A grin crept across my lips, the slowest and most aggravating one possible. It screamed that I was fully aware of the chaos I was stirring up, and I relished every moment of it.

"You wanted a lighter," I replied, my tone calm and almost soft. "Not a torch."

Mira's jaw tightened fiercely, the tiny muscle twitching visibly beneath her skin. "You complete—"

The words never came. She surged ahead instead, yanking the torch from my grip with such vigor that our knuckles collided, then flicked the switch on.

A sharp, bluish-white ray burst forth suddenly.

The beam sliced a sharp path through the gloom, revealing every element in stark, unforgiving clarity: the rugged texture of the closest tree's bark, the lingering vapor from the damp soil where urine had splashed before, the fine network of veins tracing the backs of Angela's knees as she adjusted her stance.

The glow shifted to the left, then the right, and in one charged moment, it illuminated all three women simultaneously—hips tilted, legs rigid, the clear bulge of filled bladders pressing against their flimsy clothing.

Mira let out a quick huff from her nostrils, a mix of snort and snarl.

"Incredible," she grumbled under her breath, yet she kept the light burning.

She aimed it straight ahead once more, holding it steady for a longer stretch, allowing the ray to dwell on the slim trail in front. On the dim hollow where the terrain dropped into denser foliage. On the ideal location, perhaps, for seclusion that had lost its true privacy.

Angela let out a brief, uneasy chuckle that carried little true humor. Lisa folded her arms beneath her chest, fidgeting from one foot to the other, the motion subtle yet obvious.

I remained right in place—two steps back, hands relaxed by my hips, the bulge in my jeans boldly outlined—and anticipated who might crack under the pressure first.

The torch remained lit.

I held my position precisely—two steps trailing the others, hands dangling loosely, the front of my jeans brazenly shaped by the thick, pulsing bulge of my cock.

The material pulled taut across the engorged tip, a shadowy damp patch spreading where pre-cum had leaked through on the trek. Each stride intensified the pounding against the rough cloth, craving freedom. I lingered there, breathing steady and measured, eager to witness the first to yield.

The torch continued to shine—Mira's shaky grip holding it like a vital anchor, the intense white light cutting forward, glimpsing bursts of bark on trees, hanging limbs, and sporadic sparkles of moisture on foliage. The illumination shrank the darkness, turning it more confined, more personal, more perilous.

We advanced for two fraught minutes—Angela's hips rolling intentionally ahead, Lisa's firm pace matching hers, Mira wedged in the middle, her legs rubbing with each movement as though easing the mounting pressure in her core.

Angela halted suddenly next to a huge ancient oak, its broad trunk capable of concealing three figures without effort. The roots stretched out like stout digits into the dirt. She pivoted, the torch's ray sweeping over her features, accentuating the sly spark in her gaze.

"Here's the place," she murmured, her tone deep and hinting. "We can handle it behind the tree... all cozy and secluded. No reason to keep holding back anymore."

The layered intent hit like a strike—echoing more as shadowy intimacy than mere bladder relief. My cock twitched noticeably inside my jeans.

Angela looked over her shoulder at me, then to the rest. "We'll handle it as a group... while Dexter stands guard right here. He'll watch for any surprises as we... release."

Mira's breath hitched. "But..."

Angela cocked her head, her mouth forming a playful smirk. "Afraid he'll sneak a glance...? " She drew out the term, lewd and alluring, her gaze dropping to my groin where my hard-on bulged ridiculously. "Catch every bit of what we're up to back there?"

A fierce flush overtook Mira—heat rushing to her face, trailing down her throat, plain even in the beam's glow. Her stare flicked to me—round and torn—pausing on the prominent swell, how my fingers jerked like they yearned to rub it openly.

She clamped her thighs tighter, a faint whine nearly slipping free.

Angela chuckled lightly, moving nearer to Mira and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Alright... You two head off with Lisa. I'll watch him."

Her tone fell to a sly murmur, audible enough for my ears. "Ensure he acts right... or wrong. After you've emptied everything, it's my turn. Sound good?"

Lisa and Mira shared a swift look. Lisa—in her snug security outfit, the material molding to her every contour—offered a brief dip of her head. Mira, clad in her fitted women's trousers that gripped her hips and rear, gulped noticeably.

They both understood the routine ahead: pulling down zippers, easing cloth over legs, crouching with knees apart, intimate areas bared to the chill breeze—and the risk of that light beam turning their way.

They agreed without words. Mira clutched the flashlight, leading the way past the tree, with Lisa close behind. The beam danced along with Mira's movements before vanishing beyond the vast trunk.

Fabric whispers came next—zippers tugging, pants descending, gentle gasps as flesh touched the evening chill.

The moment they vanished from view, Angela faced me. She closed the gap, her form molding to mine, a palm gliding low to seize my cock through the denim—digits encircling it solidly, compressing the rigid shaft as her thumb dug into my balls, kneading them with care.

She pressed near, mouth grazing my earlobe, warm exhale sparking tingles along my back. "Husband... why not slip over and spy? Get an eyeful..." Her words dripped with brazen temptation.

"You're already rock-hard... pulsing as if ready to explode from picturing their slick little pussies exposed, thighs wide, flows whispering under the torch's glare..."

Her grip tightened, gliding once over the cloth—measured and teasing—drawing out yet another drop of pre-cum to the peak.

"Does it thrill you, huh? Fantasizing about Mira's timid flush as she conceals her leaking slit... or Lisa's poised exposure, releasing freely without a care?"

A deep rumble escaped me, my arms whipping around her middle. I pulled her close, then swung my palm down sharply—delivering a crisp slap to her ass that rang quietly amid the branches. The soft tissue quivered beneath my touch; she sighed, arching into the smart.

"You'll answer for this soon," I rumbled into her throat, teeth scraping lightly.

"Forget about rest tonight. I'll pound you senseless till you're pleading... and perhaps allow Mira to witness what she's been too timid to demand."

Angela quaked, rubbing her drenched center along my leg. "You swear?"

From behind the tree, the torch's ray winked softly at the trunk's rim.

I moved ahead by a single step—still concealed, yet near enough to catch each noise, each muffled inhale.

Angela's fingers lingered on my cock, caressing idly. "Come on, husband... take that peek. You crave viewing it every detail."