Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 421: Mira’s Stubborn Scoff

As we slipped back into the cave, the four of us gliding like phantoms under the moonlight flooding the opening, the atmosphere struck me forcefully—dense, moist, lingering with the earthy aroma of perspiration, desire, and a subtle briny hint from the nearby ocean.

The battery-powered light I'd positioned before dimmed faintly at its minimal level, throwing elongated, golden-hued shadows over the spacious bedding where we'd entwined so recently.

Angela took the lead, her hips swinging with that assured, playful elegance, as Lisa trailed slightly behind, grinning as if scheming her next amusement.

Mira stuck close to me, her palm warm and sweaty against mine, her frame still quivering from the intense feelings outdoors—tears gone but face rosy, her tender rear grazing my leg with each movement, recalling the spanks I'd given.

My initial action was to grab the lantern, turning the knob to boost the illumination. The radiance expanded, filling the cavern with a cozy, yellow light that banished the previous murky concealment.

Everything became visible now—crisp outlines on the jagged rock surfaces, the disordered bedrolls scattered like war zones, and the trio of women in their tousled splendor.

Angela’s outfit hugged her figure like another layer of skin, her nipples pressing against the sheer material due to the chilly evening breeze.

Lisa’s trousers showed wetness at the groin from her secret activities while eavesdropping. And Mira—heavens, Mira appeared as a mess of longing and anxiety, her pants tugged on unevenly, locks disheveled, mouth puffy from our outdoor embrace.

Angela faced Mira with a mischievous grin, her gaze gleaming under the intensified glow as she appraised her like a trophy. “Mira... let me see if you can satisfy my husband,” she murmured, tone soft and provocative, advancing to run a finger along Mira’s arm, causing her to tremble.

“If not, then we’ll have to find another sister to join us. Can’t have him going unsatisfied, can we? He’s a god, after all—needs more than one woman to keep that cock of his happy.”

Mira’s eyes grew large, darting uneasily to Lisa, who leaned against the cavern wall with folded arms, nibbling her lip to conceal a smile. “Sister Angela... is Lisa also Dexter’s wife...?” Mira inquired, her tone tiny and hesitant, face heating up further as the question lingered.

Lisa flushed intensely, her typical bold attitude faltering briefly as she looked aside, legs rubbing together discreetly. Angela laughed, a deep, resonant chuckle bouncing off the rocks, extending a hand to tousle Lisa’s hair in jest.

“Not yet...” Angela teased, elongating the phrase with a cunning blink. “But she’s been staring at him like a famished feline since we ended up marooned here. Isn’t that right, Lisa? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you pressing those thighs together every time he issues a command.”

Lisa snorted, rolling her eyes, yet failing to mask the blush rising to her neck. “Shut up, Angela. Like you’re one to talk—you practically begged him to fuck you in front of us earlier.”

Mira shifted her attention to me, a blend of resolve and shame sparking in her gaze. She stood taller, attempting to appear fearless even as her legs shook faintly.

“Sister Angela... even if he is a god... he’s just a brat,” she declared, her words acquiring a defiant tone, though they quivered at the end. “See how I deal with him... hmph. He won’t have the energy to play around with other women after I’m done with him.”

The women erupted in chuckles—Angela applauding joyfully, Lisa chuckling as she detached from the wall to approach the bed with us.

Mira huffed, her embarrassment turning to a vivid crimson, but she stood firm. Rather, she drew nearer to me, her fragrance—sweat, ocean brine, and that deep scent of her soaked folds—enveloping me like a tide.

“I will deal with you...” she whispered, voice rough with a combination of timidity and determination, her stare fixing on mine with a dare that stirred my cock in my pants.

She seized my hand solidly, fingers weaving with mine in a hold that mixed urgency and insistence. “Come here...” she instructed, tugging me toward the broad sleeping area with unexpected force, her bare soles softly tapping the chilled rock ground. I allowed her to guide me, entertained and excited, my other hand grazing her hip as we went.

Upon arriving at the bed, she pushed me onto my back using both palms on my torso—firmly enough to elicit a surprised grunt from me, although I could have countered if desired. The bedding yielded a bit beneath me, the material heated from our prior presence.

Mira mounted right away, positioning herself over my chest with her legs, gripping like soft clamps, her form weighing me into the mattress.

The warmth from her center seeped through, her pants moist and adhering between her thighs, the shape of her engorged labia apparent via the flimsy cloth.

Her expression brewed with mortification—face blazing, eyes averting periodically—but she maintained her position, palms braced on my shoulders to secure me. Her breasts rose and fell with quick breaths, nipples rigid beneath her shirt, and her backside—still aching and imprinted from my strikes—lingered just over my stomach, quivering as she adjusted.

“See?” she panted, aiming for victory but sounding more plaintive.

“I’m in charge now, Dexter. You... you think you can just take whatever you want? Well, I’m going to make you beg for it this time.” Her voice broke at the conclusion, and she chewed her lip, legs clenching harder around me as though reassuring herself above all.

Angela and Lisa had positioned themselves along both sides of the bed, observing with ravenous looks, the enhanced lighting highlighting every blush and twitch. “Oh, Mira, honey,” Angela cooed, inching nearer, her fingers drifting idly across her own leg. “You look so cute trying to play dominant. But let’s see how long that lasts once he gets his hands on you.”