Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 408: Pervert Debauchery System Payouts Rising

Angela flashed a smile that was far too charming. She approached Mira, leaning down a bit to grab the water bottle off the stone. In that moment, her fresh pants stretched snugly over her backside, the moist area glinting briefly in the sun's rays.

"Sounds ideal," Angela remarked, her tone airy. "A cozy, secluded cave... buried deep within. Shielded from all the outside world." She rose up, locking eyes with Mira for an extra moment. "We can truly... make ourselves at home there."

Mira gulped noticeably. Her legs squeezed together once more—discreetly, yet I spotted it. She bobbed her head fast, almost too eagerly.

"Y-yeah. Make ourselves at home. Solid idea."

I rose to my full height now, extending my arms until my shirt lifted, revealing a sliver of bare midriff. Angela shifted to stand beside me, weaving her fingers through mine once again, just like the previous evening—effortless, claiming.

"Let's head that way," I suggested, glancing at both of them one by one. My stare rested on Mira long enough to intensify her blush. "No sense in squandering the daylight. Not when a cozy, shadowy, serene spot awaits us."

Angela gripped my hand tighter. "Mm. Eager to get there."

Mira averted her gaze first—fixing on the distant skyline as if it could rescue her.

We began our trek to the cave, with the morning light rising higher, transforming the woods into a steamy, glowing mist.

Lisa and Angela led the way, walking abreast—Lisa babbling cheerfully about the refreshment of flowing water on her skin, Angela agreeing with her smooth, calculated grin that concealed her true thoughts.

Yet Angela's stride had shifted today. More deliberate. Cautious. Every movement was precise, her hips swinging a touch less boldly, legs grazing with small, intentional halts.

I noticed the slight grimace she attempted to conceal whenever she leaned into the next step—her inflamed, sensitive folds rebelling against the intense thrusting I'd delivered the night before.

The fresh pants clung to her rear and groin like another layer of flesh, but that shadowy, wet mark up front remained unchanged; in fact, it appeared somewhat larger under the sun, the material sticking damply where my seed continued to trickle from her.

Mira trailed a pace after them—directly next to me.

She observed it.

Naturally, she did.

Her glances kept flitting toward Angela's guarded pace, the minor stutter in her steps, the occasional thigh squeeze during a stride as if easing the discomfort unseen.

Mira's face held a steady rosy tint; she nibbled her bottom lip firmly, creating faint pale indents, yet she uttered not a word. No questions about the pants.

No remarks on Angela's uneven walk. She simply let her eyes shift between the trail forward and the woman who'd been ravaged to oblivion as she lurked in the dark, eavesdropping.

The quiet hanging between us felt heavy—electric. Now and then, Mira's breath stuttered, quick and ragged, as though she was reliving the previous night over and over in her thoughts.

I allowed my thoughts to turn inward, summoning the system display with a relaxed mental nudge. The usual see-through screen materialized, seen by me alone.

Pervert Debauchery System

Name: Dexter Williams

Age: 22

Skills: None

Abilities: Healing Factor, Limit Breaker, Universal Language, Eternal Vitality, Cuckold God, Nexus, Pervert Insight, Beast Tamer

Beast Tamed: Ants( 14921)

Pervert Points: 5,64,895

Harem:

System Storage: Gun, Magical Tool, Used items include Virus Immunity Needle, Soothing Cream, and more.

SUPER-MARKET STORE: The store provided whatever I craved—supplies, outfits, talents, powers, or the wildest indulgences—all traded for Pervert Points.

I glanced over the recent alerts, a sly, lewd smirk forming on my lips as the system detailed my gains in bold, vulgar clarity—each reward steeped in the twisted vice it thrived on celebrating.

[Turning Doctor Anya into a dripping, cock-starved slut and making her beg to have her tight medical pussy stuffed full of my thick dick until she came screaming – 25,000 Pervert Points]

[Pounding Nathalie’s married cunt raw in deep, brutal missionary, pinning her legs back so I could slam balls-deep while she clawed my back and sobbed my name – 10,000 Pervert Points]

[Fucking Olivia like a cheap whore until her greedy little snatch gushed and squirted all over my cock and thighs – 30,000 Pervert Points]

[Railing Angela’s sloppy, cum-hungry jungle cunt out in the open like a feral animal, balls slapping her ass, and Mira pretended not to hear the wet fucking sounds – 100,000 Pervert Points]

That final alert struck like a rush. One hundred thousand points. A huge, pulsing reward simply for escalating a savage, exposed rut into the peak of secret watching—having Mira observe (and overhear) as I demolished Angela's depths, then leaving her to simmer in the fallout: the puffy gait, the oozing seed mark, the nonchalant display of what she'd only secretly glimpsed.

I waved the screen away with an idle mental gesture, my shaft already stirring semi-erect in my trousers from merely scanning the descriptions. My gaze drifted toward Mira.

She fixed straight forward now, jaw locked so rigidly the tendon twitched beneath her flesh. Her fists clenched pale at her hips, fingernails biting into her skin as if battling the impulse to slide a hand into her pants and stroke her throbbing nub right on the path.

With every few paces, Mira's inhale faltered—brief, desperate puffs she fought to muffle before they sounded out. She understood the soft, repeating slosh from Angela with each guarded hip roll.

The dense, earthy scent of my release likely wafted her way on the gentle wind as well—warm, briny, undeniable evidence that Angela's core still dripped with me long after, battered and puffed from the savage rut she'd endured while Mira concealed herself and touched to exhaustion in the gloom.

My Pervert Points had risen to 5,64,895. Nearing the seven-digit mark. Almost... but not quite there. I had to reach 1,000,000 swiftly—very swiftly—to unlock something utterly game-changing from the SUPER-MARKET STORE.

Telepathy would suit ideally. Infiltrating thoughts, uncovering every dirty hidden desire, sowing ideas like whispers until they pleaded to part their thighs for me.

Or even superior, total mind dominance—shaping women into willing, soaked playthings who'd kneel and express gratitude for my exploitation. The options alone made my shaft pulse at the mere notion.