Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 412: Two Huge Beds, One Giant Fuck Platform Waiting

Lisa giggled, joining in with less elegance but more zeal, peeling off her clothes until she was bare before slipping into the bodysuit. The fabric molded to her like an extra layer of skin, highlighting each contour: her firm breasts pushing against the front zipper, rear neatly embraced, legs appearing robust and deadly.

Mira took the longest to decide. She scanned the cave—shadows providing enough seclusion in the side nooks—then glanced back at me. "I... I'll get changed there," she murmured softly, indicating a dimmer spot. Her tone trembled faintly. "Don't... don't peek, alright?"

Angela let out a quiet chuckle. "Of course, darling. We'll behave." Then, whispering to me: "Bet she'll figure out in ten seconds how snug this'll grip her damp little slit."

Mira slipped behind a rock divider, her steps light on the moist ground.

Angela fastened her suit gradually—on purpose—leaving the plunging V partially unzipped, her bosom overflowing temptingly. She faced me, hip tilted. "What do you think, husband? Set to kill... or entice?"

I moved nearer, trailing a hand along her flank, sensing the smooth fabric heating beneath my touch. "A bit of both. And risky."

Lisa posed theatrically—hands on hips, chest pushed out. "I feel ready to take on anyone. Ultimate gear."

A gentle rustle sounded from behind the divider—cloth gliding across flesh—followed by a faint, startled intake of breath.

Mira's voice drifted over, timid and embarrassed: "It's... incredibly snug. All over. I wasn't prepared... oh gosh, the zip's right at my... er..."

Angela pressed her lips together to stifle laughter. "Relax, Mira. Zip it up gently. Let it wrap around you."

A brief silence ensued. Then a quivering sigh. "It feels... strange. Nice strange. Like... protection. Yet also... bare."

She emerged shortly after.

The bodysuit adhered to her like molten darkness. Each shape was emphasized: ample chest pressing the front zipper (which she'd only halfway closed, revealing profound cleavage tinged with blush), slim midsection tightened, hips widening into plump thighs that seemed strong and yielding simultaneously.

The fabric shimmered softly in the dim glow, tracing the slight outline of her camel toe at the crotch—leftover excitement from before likely seeping in already. The boots extended her legs, making them seem infinite and threatening.

Mira folded her arms over her bosom instinctively, attempting to cover the low V of the half-zipped front.

The dark fabric enveloped her as if molded in place—every contour highlighted, each breath causing her breasts to heave noticeably against the constricting material. Her face flushed a vivid red that trailed down her throat and vanished into her décolletage.

"I... I must look silly, right?" she breathed, tone tiny and doubtful. "It's so... constricting. And exposing. Feels like I'm naked."

Angela approached right away, orbiting her leisurely as if evaluating a masterpiece. She extended a hand, softly yet insistently lowering Mira's arms to prevent any covering.

"Not at all, darling," Angela cooed, tone husky and affectionate. "You appear stunning in it. Deadly. Alluring. As if you could enter any space and draw every gaze—then hold every neck in your grasp."

My dick was hardening in my trousers, pressing urgently against the zip as I absorbed the view of all three in those matching black killer suits.

Angela—bold, flirtatious, zip lowered far enough that the inner curves of her full breasts nearly escaped with each inhale, the fabric so form-fitting it traced her erect nipples as if pleading for lips.

Lisa—bouncy and fun, hip angled, the pants clinging to the solid roundness of her butt and the gentle rise between her legs, seeming like she'd kneel and take me in her mouth without hesitation.

And Mira—blushing, hesitant, arms partially shielding as if wishing to conceal, but the suit exposed her: generous breasts taut against the hide, profound cleavage rosy, the seam at the groin molding directly to her puffy folds so from this distance I spotted the subtle camel toe shape, already moistening anew.

Three deadly, aroused women outfitted like prizes for conquest and battle. The desire struck me forcefully—lean them over the closest stone outcrop, tear open those zips, and plunder them sequentially until the cavern rang with their cries and the slick smack of bodies colliding. Stuff every opening until they overflowed with me, branded, possessed.

I drew in a sharp breath via my nostrils, grinding my teeth, commanding my erection to ease off. Not now. Not in a rush. The rewards would taste better stretched out. If I allowed Mira to fray herself a bit more on the brink.

I pivoted, gazing toward the cave opening. The sun had dipped, casting golden turning to amber rays, shadows elongating over the woodland ground beyond. Darkness approached swiftly.

Angela spotted my strain at once. She strolled up, hips swaying in the fresh suit like flowing temptation, and leaned into my side—breasts yielding against my limb, one palm drifting to hover just over my belt, digits grazing the swell lightly.

"Husband..." she murmured, tone intimate and hinting, "could we have something bed-like here? These rocky surfaces wreck my back... and elsewhere." She dragged her leg along mine on purpose, allowing the warmth from her thighs to seep through.

Lisa brightened up right away. "Yeah! Beds! Huge ones! No more rock sleeping for me."

Mira remained silent, but her gaze darted to the fading portal, then returned to me—wary, eager, already picturing the possibilities in the coming dark.

I agreed, breathing out steadily to hold my tone even. "Consider it done."

Via a swift thought directive, I accessed System Storage and withdrew two enormous double beds directly from the SUPER-MARKET STORE—king-sized bases, dense memory-foam pads, sleek black linens fitting their new attire's style, and cushions soft and welcoming.

They appeared in the heart of the primary area with a hushed puff of air, neatly positioned adjacent to create a vast rest area.

Angela emitted a joyful yelp and tumbled back onto the closest, limbs outstretched, breasts bouncing beneath the snug hide.

"Hell yeah. Pure bliss." She flipped to her belly, rear elevated, peering at me over her shoulder with a naughty smile. "Husband... come check the springiness."

Lisa launched onto the second bed, stretching out like a star. "Wow, it's incredibly plush! I could doze for days... or stay awake forever." She raised her brows at me. "Up to you, chief."

Mira neared cautiously—near worshipful—tracing the linens with her fingertips. She perched on the rim, probing the mattress's softness, then lifted her eyes to mine, wide and shimmering.

"It's... ideal," she said softly. "All you create is ideal." Her words faltered a touch at the end. She nibbled her lip, knees squeezing subtly—I noticed the small shift.

Angela leaned on her forearms, bosom tumbling ahead. "Get it, Mira? I said so. He provides for us. Beds, meals, clothes..." She ran her tongue over her lips deliberately. "Anything required. Anytime it's wanted."

While Mira engaged in talk with Lisa—nervously laughing about the bodysuit giving her a "spy in a cheesy flick" vibe, Lisa ribbing her with "Honey, you resemble the baddie who triumphs by charming all"—I drew Angela to a shaded nook by the brook. The soft water flow masked our hushed words flawlessly.