Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 415: Mira’s Hairy Armpits

From behind, I slipped my hand between her legs—my fingers grazing the soaked panel of her underwear for the final moment. She shuddered—letting out a sharp whine—as I trailed my fingertips over her saturated folds via the cloth, gathering her moisture as evidence. Next, I snagged the crotch area—my middle finger bending beneath the damp fabric—and yanked.

A last, savage pull.

The remaining strands tore with a moist pop. The underwear detached into my grasp—hot, weighty, saturated—her desire so viscous that shiny strands linked the material to her core briefly before snapping apart.

Slowly and intentionally, I raised the ripped piece—positioning it directly before her face in the faint golden light so she could view it: the dark fabric turned almost black in the middle, glossy and wet from her essence, a subtle earthy aroma wafting intensely and personally between us.

"Open wide, Angela," I murmured, my lips touching her earlobe. "Taste how much your eager little pussy craves this."

Her head thrashed side to side—tears flowing like streams now—stifled begs humming desperately against my hand. Yet I rubbed the drenched panel over her lips regardless—sliding it forth and back once, twice—spreading her own slickness on her mouth like vulgar, shining lipstick. She retched instinctively, a small, strangled noise slipping out before her lips separated in a shattered cry.

I thrust forward.

The wadded underwear passed her teeth—warm, briny, flavored intensely with her own excitement. I packed them further— even further—until her cheeks puffed out a bit, the cloth occupying her mouth entirely. Just a tiny, damp edge of dark fabric protruded from her lips like a dirty, improvised muzzle.

With my thumb, I folded that final edge completely in—securing her quiet—then outlined her packed mouth using my fingertip's pad, sensing her tongue naturally pushing against the wet fabric.

"Perfect," I exhaled, my tone heavy with shadowy desire. "Look at you... My dear, pure wife... silenced with her own soaked underwear... savoring her taste as I toy with your openings. You're so damn gorgeous when you're degraded this way."

Mira's eyes fluttered back for an instant—overpowered, lightheaded—then clenched closed once more as new tears cascaded down her face in quiet floods. Saliva pooled at the edges of her taut lips, blending with her tears, trickling in slender, shiny paths along her jaw and onto the resting mat.

I planted a kiss on the back of her neck—lingering, with lips parted—then breathed a final crushing phrase against her skin:

"Now keep that lovely mouth stuffed and remain silent as I take what's mine. You don't want Lisa or Mira stirring and spotting Angela in this state—underwear crammed into her throat, rear exposed and leaking, weeping as her spouse probes her like the desperate vixen she truly is... right?"

Feebly, she shook her head—vanquished, shattered—but her hips circled back in small, futile loops, wordlessly pleading for additional even while her tears persisted.

Two fingers dove back into her drenched core—bending them profoundly—while my thumb bore down firmly on her rear entrance once more.

She belonged to me—utterly, degradingly, forever.

And she understood that.

Sweat already coated her rear cleft. Still, I inserted my finger into her snug rear passage, sensing the warm, quivering opposition yield sufficiently to cause Mira to quake fiercely against me. A stifled, fractured noise seeped beyond my hand despite my firm seal over her mouth.

Drawing nearer, my lips skimmed the moist curve of her ear as I whispered, deep and lewd,

"It's even snugger than earlier when I inserted my thumb... I never thought you'd be more aroused than I am, baby girl."

I allowed the phrase to linger for a moment, then intentionally lowered my tone further, more ominous, uttering it as if addressing another person altogether.

"Angela... you're such a wicked wife. Does it excite you to be here, in front of Lisa and Mira... just like previously... when I took you on the grass as you chatted with Mira, struggling so damn much to suppress your moans?"

At the mention, Mira's entire form spasmed—her eyes flying open wide in the golden light, irises dilated with terror and an emotion much more disgraceful. Her pussy squeezed tightly around my fingers; new warmth surged over my hand.

Once more, she denied it with her head—wildly, urgently—but the action merely pressed her face against my roughened palm, merely caused her suppressed whines to resonate directly into me.

Deeper, I bent my fingers within her, caressing that engorged, soft area that forced her hips to jerk on their own. Simultaneously, I eased my finger further into her backside—gradual, unyielding—perceiving the constricted band throb and quiver as if drawing me deeper.

"Feel that?" I breathed, my lips skimming her earlobe. "Your body's pleading more vocally than your voice could. You're soaking my wrist, Mira... and your tight rear's holding me like it refuses to release me."

I shifted my hips ahead slightly to make her sense the girth and weight of my hardened length, confined between our bodies, dripping onto the curve of her lower back.

On the other side of the mat, Angela's breaths had altered—remaining steady and measured... yet now slightly too calculated. Feigning. Eavesdropping.

Lisa remained still.

Yet I was certain she was awake now too.

My mouth met the back of Mira's neck, savoring the tang of salt and warmth and anxious perspiration, and I rumbled softly enough for just her—and perhaps Angela—to catch:

"Stay silent, baby... or I'll rouse them both and reveal precisely how voracious a slut my wife's fresh companion actually is."

Gently yet resolutely, I raised her arm, revealing the plush, dim recess of her underarm. The subtle, natural aroma of her—perspiration, brine from the ocean breeze, and an essence purely womanly—struck me like an intoxicant.

Without pause, I applied my mouth to it, my tongue sliding leisurely and purposefully across the moist surface, sampling her. Coarse swipes, followed by a firm draw on the sensitive area, causing her whole body to tense rigidly against me.

Mira's suppressed scream buzzed right into my hand. She attempted to squirm free, but my hold around her midsection secured her more snugly, my erection pulsing steadily against her rear groove.

I withdrew slightly to talk, my lips grazing the freshly laved skin, my voice a soft, mocking scrape close to her ear.

"Why are they so hairy, Angela...?" I whispered, allowing the name to fall like sweetened venom. "Didn't you shave them? We ended up stranded here... hmm. Seems like come morning, we'll need to remove them, won't we, baby girl?"