Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 422: Assassin Suit in Tatters

I could no longer hold back—the view of her sitting there, flushed with shame yet unyielding, her form quivering in betrayal at every shiver.

My palms surged upward, seizing the flimsy material of her swimsuit top—no, actually, it was that revealing assassin outfit she wore, the tight one-piece that clung to her like a second skin, pulled taut across her breasts and slit after our previous scuffle.

The fabric had already frayed along the borders from the harsh treatment, and I clutched the collar with both hands, pulling fiercely in opposing directions.

Riiiip.

The cloth ripped with a crisp, gratifying noise, tearing straight down the middle across her breasts. Her ample bosom burst out immediately—plump, yielding globes jiggling into the open, nipples darkened and hardened by the chilly cavern air and her excitement.

Mira let out a sharp intake of breath, a shrill "Ahh!" slipping from her mouth as her arms darted up on reflex to shield herself, but it was too late—the reveal was total, her breasts rising and falling with the jolt, fair complexion shining under the lantern glow, subtle crimson traces from my prior fondling still evident.

Yet I had more in mind. My hands descended further, digits catching the groin area of her outfit where it stuck to her sopping slit.

The fabric was drenched completely, tacky with her fluids, and I sensed the warmth throbbing from her center.

With a snarl, I tore that section as well—shredding the stitching with raw power, the material yielding in a damp tear that bared her entirely. Her labia separated a bit with the pull, glossy and engorged, a dense thicket of dark, coiled hair bordering her mound like an untamed lure.

Her wetness sparkled on her inner legs, trickling gradually toward my torso, where she sat astride me, the earthy aroma striking me intensely.

Mira inhaled sharply once more—this time more forcefully, a strangled "Oh god... Dexter!"—her frame twitching as if shocked, legs squeezing around me while new tears of disgrace and desire gathered in her gaze.

She attempted to press her thighs together, but her position over me prevented it, keeping her fuzzy, leaking vagina fully visible to everyone. "You... you tore it... I can’t believe..." she murmured, palms fluttering ineffectively, uncertain if they should shield her breasts or her slit.

Angela edged in nearer, her stare fixed on Mira’s uncovered intimacy with a blend of delight and craving, running her tongue over her lips deliberately. "Oh, Mira, look at that hairy little pussy of yours... all bushy and wild, like you haven’t trimmed it in years."

"Jack must’ve been too busy ignoring you to even notice, huh? Bet his cock was nothing like Dexter’s—probably tiny, limp, couldn’t even get you wet like this."

"How long has it been since he fucked you, sweetie? Months? Years? No wonder you’re dripping like a faucet for my husband... that poor neglected cunt’s starving for a real man."

Lisa joined from the opposite flank, inching nearer on all fours, her eyes glued to the space between Mira’s legs with a sly smile. "Damn, Angela’s right—that bush is out of control. Jack’s dick must’ve been pathetic if he left you like this, all overgrown and desperate."

"I can see your juices shining from here, Mira... how many nights did you lie there, fingering yourself thinking about someone—anyone—fucking you proper?"

"Bet it’s been forever since you’ve been stretched as Dexter did earlier in your ass. Look at you, pussy lips all puffy and red, clit poking out like it’s begging. Jack probably couldn’t even find it with a map."

Mira wriggled atop me, her breaths evolving into gentle moans as the taunting remarks struck deep, her vagina contracting noticeably, additional moisture leaking to drench my top. "S-stop... It’s embarrassing..." she pleaded, yet her pelvis shifted ahead on its own, rubbing her damp warmth against my torso, creating a glossy streak.

"Jack... he hasn’t touched me in... in two years... his cock was small, okay? Barely filled me... but Dexter... oh god, I’m so wet for him..."

Angela chuckled lightly, extending a digit to trail along Mira’s leg, gathering a drop of her essence and sucking it in with a pleased sound. "Two years? No wonder you’re such a mess down there—hairy and horny, ready to cream just from a rip and a look. But don’t worry, sister... We’ll shave that bush tomorrow, make you smooth and pretty for him. For now, though, let him see how desperate Jack left you."

Lisa agreed with a nod, her palm gliding up Mira’s spine in a playful manner. "Yeah, and compare that to Dexter’s monster—thick, veined, the kind that ruins you for anyone else. Jack’s little prick probably felt like a finger. Bet that’s why your pussy’s clenching like that now, imagining him splitting you open while we watch."

I rumbled beneath her, my erection throbbing achingly in my trousers, arms stretching up to clasp her bared breasts—kneading firmly, thumbs circling her nipples until she bowed and yelped.

"Fuck, Mira... you’re soaking me already," I snarled, thrusting my hips upward to make her sense my rigidity poking her rear.

"Angela and Lisa are right—your husband was a fool to leave this dripping cunt untouched. But now it’s mine... and I’m going to fuck every last drop out of you while they tease you about how pathetic he was."

Mira’s defiance shattered utterly, her form softening into me as she rubbed more intensely, mewling. "Please... Dexter... take me... I don’t care about Jack anymore... just fuck me like the god you are..."

Angela and Lisa shared ardent looks, their prior chuckles fading into deep, husky sighs that permeated the cavern like mist.

The vivid lantern illuminated every lewd aspect in vivid amber—perspiration droplets trailing down Mira’s heated flesh, the manner her shredded assassin suit hung in pointless rags, her substantial breasts swinging with each unsteady breath, that feral, drenched thicket encircling her inflamed, leaking vagina like a shadowy crown of abandonment.

Angela acted first, advancing on her knees with feral elegance. She sought no approval—none required. Her fingers slipped amid Mira’s quaking legs, separating the tangled locks brusquely until she located that plump, pulsing clit emerging as if it had awaited attention for ages.

Angela nipped it—firmly—using thumb and forefinger, twirling the tender bud with ruthless accuracy.

Mira’s entire frame spasmed as if zapped. "A-ahh—Sister Angela—!" she stuttered, tone fracturing into a shrill, fractured cry.

Mira’s pelvis lurched ahead without thought, seeking the keen bite of bliss-agony, but Angela merely wrenched firmer, yanking the engorged gem until it turned a furious crimson.