Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 409: Angela’s Piggyback Ride

To sustain the drive forward, I recalled Pervert Insight. In a swift thought, I triggered it toward the three women nearby.

Just a single choice popped up for each this round—though the payoff linked to Mira’s sent my heartbeat surging.

[Sneaky Accident: Fuck Mira... and pretend you mistook her for Angela in the dark. Grope her, strip her, pound her married pussy while whispering "Angela" in her ear until she’s creaming and crying your name – 300,000 Pervert Points]

A whopping three hundred thousand. All for a single "accidental" screw.

Thoughts whirled in my head. The scenario fit ideally: darkness filled the cave, featuring tight passages and dim glow from the stream. I might "unintentionally" seize Mira from the rear, pin her to the stone, tug her jeans low, and thrust inside fully prior to any objection—muttering Angela’s name throughout as if consumed by desire.

She would recognize the deception right away. She would spot my falsehood immediately. Yet following the previous evening—after witnessing my conquest of Angela, after touching herself amid those noises, after observing the miraculous pants appear—she partly viewed me as a deity already. She would not yell.

She would not resist. She might climax more intensely than ever before, justifying it as "destiny" or "yielding to strength" as her overlooked slit drained me completely.

And those points... damn, those points.

The Insight display dissolved as I turned my attention to the path ahead.

Angela faced real difficulty at this point—every stride seemed agonizing, her legs quivering, her labia so swollen and raw that the gentle cloth of the fresh pants brushing them drew winces from her. Silently, I moved in behind, seized her waist, and bent down.

"Climb on," I stated plainly.

Angela showed no delay. She leaped upward, coiling her legs around my midsection from the back as her hands encircled my neck. Her full breasts pressed firmly into my back right away—plush, heated, tips erect beneath her light top.

The warmth from her groin seeped through where it nestled against my lower spine; the wet spot lingered there, seeping into my shirt, tacky and toasty with remnants of my release still leaking.

Mira’s gaze fixed on the display. A deep red flush colored her cheeks, evoking the identical piggyback carry I had provided her once—during her sprained ankle, prior to the sexual shift.

She understood the reason for Angela’s walking woes. That awareness caused her thighs to squeeze once more; the fabric folds appeared visible.

Lisa looked over her shoulder, flashing a sly smile.

"Ugh, I’m so jealous eating this dog food," she joked, her eyes gleaming. "Sister Angela, are you trying to kill me with all this PDA? Why don’t you share your husband with me? I promise I’ll take good care of him..."

Angela chuckled, pulling her arms snugger around my neck to squash her breasts tighter against me.

"What are you talking about? Trying to steal your friend’s man? You’re so shameless, Lisa."

Easy chatter passed between them now—without any remnants of the prior subordinate-guard relationship. They acted like intimate pals—nearly siblings—ribbing one another as if longtime acquaintances. The change came across as organic, cozy... thrilling in the finest manner.

Mira remained shocked and quiet amid it, her face aflame.

Lisa gave Angela a wink. "I was just kidding... but seriously, Sister Angela, you gotta think of me as a single woman. Don’t flaunt it so much—I get jealous." She made an over-the-top pout. "Even Sister Mira is married... only I’m left all alone..."

Mira felt the remark strike like a blow. Her expression dropped at once—gaze dimming as recollections of her spouse surged: the strikes, the insults, the icy neglect. Her posture sagged; the strained grin she held shattered.

Angela caught it without delay. She signaled Lisa with a wink past my shoulder.

"Lisa... apologize to Mira. Quick."

Lisa’s playful smirk disappeared. She faced Mira, tone gentle. "Sister Mira... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad. I was just trying to lighten the mood..."

Mira drew an unsteady breath and mustered a faint smile. "It’s nothing... don’t worry. I’m fine."

She attempted to shift focus, peering up at Angela perched on my back. "But Angela... Lisa’s right. You’re really making us feel jealous..."

Angela clasped my neck more firmly, intentionally mashing her breasts stronger against me until each hardened nipple scraped my shirt. She directed a mischievous, taunting grin toward Mira.

"Hmm... there’s nothing I can do about it. But if you really can’t hold back... I’m willing to share my husband." Her tone turned to feigned earnest playfulness. "I’ll be the eldest wife, though. You all have to call me ’Big Sister’..."

Mira’s complexion ignited—redness creeping to her throat, lips parting and shutting like a stranded fish. She muttered something garbled.

Angela erupted in laughter. "Ha! Ha! Just kidding..."

Yet I recognized the truth.

Angela spoke no jests. Not truly.

The extended trek had coated us all in sweat and eagerness, the woodland warmth sticking to our bodies like an extra skin. Upon entering the cave’s broad opening, the atmosphere changed—chiller, moister, infused with a subtle earthy aroma of subterranean liquid.

The initial room expanded broadly: polished rock ground shaped by ages of leaks, beams of sunlight piercing the entry in amber rays that snagged floating particles. Further inside, gloom deepened, hinting at slim corridors, concealed nooks, and the gentle, steady drip of the stream resonating like a far-off pulse.

Angela dismounted my back with a soft, sharp intake—her inflamed folds evidently still objecting to every cloth movement over delicate skin. She leaned on the wall for balance, surveying the space with true awe, easing her typical sly grin.

"God... it’s a good place," she whispered, her words hushed and nearly worshipful. "Cool enough to sleep without sweating buckets, hidden from anything that might wander by, and that water sound... we could really make this feel like home. No more sleeping on rocks. No more waking up with dirt in my hair. Just... us. Safe. Private."

Lisa sprang ahead several paces, twirling with arms wide. "Yes! Finally! I was close to turning into a bug magnet out there. This is paradise. Look at that little pool over there—crystal clear. I’m claiming dibs on first bath."

All of a sudden, three bellies unleashed loud, complaining rumbles in almost exact harmony. The noise rebounded from the rock surfaces, heightening the shame into a humorous reverberation.

I chuckled, patting my own growling stomach. "Okay, okay... we haven’t eaten since last night. Everyone’s starving. So what do you want? Name it."