Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 403: Mira Hears Angela’s “I’m Cumming”

Angela's nails sank even deeper into my hip—her body bowing upward, her pussy clenching in wild spasms as yet another stifled moan escaped: "Mmmph... ahh... f-fuck..." She tried to pass it off as a pretend yawn, yet her hips slammed back with more force, drawing me in further, her exposed folds gripping my cock as if refusing to release it.

Mira adjusted her position a bit—lifting herself up more, her gaze sharpening on Angela's crotch where the dark damp spot had expanded noticeably, tracing the contours of her engorged mound. "Angela... your pants... they're... soaked. Did you spill anything?"

Angela's eyes flew wide open—terror flickering through them as I circled my hips in a profound grind, churning her inner depths, my cockhead scraping across each tender fold.

Her clit snagged on the coarse denim rim once more—chafing roughly, firing jolts straight up her back. A new spurt of fluid seeped out around my root, drenching the ripped material even more.

"I-I... it's... nnh... just... sweat..." Angela stuttered, her voice fracturing into a suppressed whimper—"Mmmphhh... oh g-god..."—while I drove in stronger, my cock throbbing within her quivering channel. "The f-fire... makes me... hah... hot... so hot... nnnghh..."

I murmured into her ear: "That's right, slut... tell her how scorching your naked pussy is... how it's leaking for my cock... gripping tight like a clamp as I plunge deep inside... you're about to climax, right? Gush all over my shaft right before her eyes... let her witness you break apart..."

Angela's pussy seized like a snare—its walls undulating, drawing me in urgently as her frame trembled. "Mira... you... you look... w-worried... I'm... I'm f-fine... really... just... ahh... need to... to rest... mmmph..."

The final syllable melted into a strangled moan—sharp and desperate—her teeth clamping down on her arm once again to muffle it. Her hips swung back—colliding with my fierce drives—her channel flooding with every impact, the wet smacks intensifying.

Mira's breathing caught—her stare fixed on Angela's quivering hips, on how her form jolted with each concealed motion. "It's... it's like you're trembling... are you chilly? Or... something more?"

Angela let out a laugh—a fractured, gasping noise that splintered into a muffled wail—"Mmmphhh... f-fuck..."—as I pounded in profoundly, my cockhead slamming against her cervix. "N-no... not c-cold... husband's... keeping me... w-warm... so warm... hah... inside... nnnghh... feels... so g-good..."

I hissed more obscenities, pumping quicker now—brief, ferocious strokes that caused her bare walls to quiver and contract: "You love being fucked this way, don't you, my bare-cunted whore?"

"Pussy spread open around my dick while Mira watches... she's getting aroused seeing you... pressing her thighs as if eager for her turn... squeeze tighter... force that pussy to squirt for me... I'm going to flood you with cum as she observes you climax without a sound..."

Angela's frame seized up—pussy contracting in frenzy, clit scraping the denim in agonizing sparks—a small, stifled shriek breaking past her bitten arm: "Mmmphhh... aaaah... deeper... f-fuck..."

Mira inched closer—her tone gentle, hesitant: "Angela... your voice... it sounds like you're... moaning. Are you certain you're alright?"

Angela's eyes clamped shut—nails clawing at my hip as I pressed deep, my cock surging inside her undulating channel. "I-I'm... not... moaning... just... nnh... yawning... tired... so tired... hah... but... but it feels... good... so good... mmmph..."

The phrase crumbled into yet another muffled moan—her body curving, pussy squeezing like a vise around me as a minor spurt erupted, drenching the ground.

Mira's thighs pressed more firmly together—fingers knotting in the grass, her breaths coming in uneven gasps.

She understood.

I clutched Angela's hips tighter—fingers pressing into yielding skin through the shredded denim—and began slamming into her with ruthless, unrelenting power.

Every drive buried me to the hilt, cockhead pounding her cervix, swirling the warm, slippery chaos within her exposed channel.

The wet smacks of flesh meeting flesh rang out louder than the fading flames—lewd, steady, impossible to ignore.

Her pussy folds clung hungrily to my cock on each pullback, only to be forced apart again on the downward stroke, fluids spurting in brief, chaotic sprays that drenched my balls and dotted the grass below.

Angela could no longer contain it.

The initial true moan burst forth—piercing, shattered, primal—"Aaaah... f-fuck... Dexter...!"

Her cry sliced through the fire's glow—volume enough to make the darkness hold its breath. Her bare pussy locked like a clamp—walls convulsing fiercely, fluttering over my shaft as I drove harder, swifter.

The ripped denim grated her inflamed clit with every savage plunge, unleashing lightning bolts across her nerves. She attempted to gnaw her arm once more, but it failed—another moan escaped—"Nnghh... yes... harder... oh god...!"

Mira's eyes widened in shock.

Regardless of her feigned naivety or foolishness, she grasped precisely what was unfolding.

The slick slapping noises, Angela's strangled shouts, the manner her hips bucked to greet each ferocious thrust, the expanding dark blotch on her jeans from every surge of pussy fluid—it was undeniable.

Mira's cheeks ignited scarlet—flushing hot in the fire's glow, her pupils dilated, mouth agape in a wordless intake. Her thighs squeezed so fiercely her knees bumped; a faint, unintended whimper leaked from her lips before she silenced it.

She whipped her head away fast—turning to her opposite side toward Lisa, feigning shut eyes and slumber.

Yet the flush trailed down her neck, her breaths arrived in short, jagged bursts, and her fingers wrenched fiercely in the grass.

Lisa—already turned toward her—cracked open one eye, caught Mira's flushed visage, the urgent thigh friction, the subtle hip shifts even in supposed sleep. A gradual, aware grin formed on Lisa's mouth. She remained silent—just observed Mira writhe, the red deepening to her earlobes.

Mira pressed her eyes closed harder, but to no avail. Every smack of my cock into Angela's soaked channel traveled over the fire.

Every suppressed-then-unleashed moan from Angela resounded in the still night. Mira's thighs ground more insistently—frantic small rotations, chasing relief she denied craving.

I refused to ease up.

I bent over Angela's back, mouth near her ear, snarling low and crude as I hammered fiercer—cock driving in and out of her convulsing depths.

"That's it, you dirty whore... scream for me... let Mira hear how my cock destroys your bare pussy... sense it spreading you apart, battering your cervix... you're going to squirt everywhere on my dick as she eavesdrops... grip that messy pussy... drain me empty..."

Angela's restraint broke entirely.

"Aaaah... Dexter... fuck... yes... deeper... I'm cumming... I'm cumming on your cock...!"

Her pussy gripped like a fist—walls waving, quaking, seizing madly around my cock. A warm flood of squirt jetted out around my base—transparent, powerful streams wetting my balls, the shredded denim, the grass—splattering clearly with each merciless drive. Her clit pulsed against the harsh seam, bloated and hypersensitive, every rub elevating her further.