Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 7: Sexy Tribal Milfs

The pulsing red markers on my map taunted me like a rhythmic heartbeat. People. Or, at the very least, something close enough to be called human. Were they humans, elves, or even catgirls? A sharp, electric surge of excitement raced through me at the thought. This world wasn't merely a cage—it was a playground, and I was the only player who understood the mechanics.

Selecting the cluster of red dots with my mind, I decided to head toward them. The map pinpointed the coordinates and calculated the distance: 12 kilometers away. I couldn't help but let out a curse.

"You expect me to trek 12 km? I'll literally die..." The idea of walking that far was repulsive to me.

However, my gaze fell upon my clothes, and I remembered the Magical Tool. I wondered if the device could transform into a vehicle. Testing the theory, I willed it to change, and in a flash, the tool became a mountain bike. It truly was a magical tool, restricted only by the limits of my own imagination.

Uncertain of who or what those red dots represented—whether they were human, another race altogether, or if they would be hostile—I adjusted the bike's engine to be a silent electric motor and began riding toward the destination.

The intervening jungle was thick and overgrown, making the ride difficult even on a mountain bike. Nevertheless, I eventually reached the perimeter and converted the Magical Tool back into a simple t-shirt and shorts to wear.

Surveying the area, I saw what appeared to be a village—a primitive tribe living in huts constructed from mud and straw. Since I was still 500 meters out and the path sloped downward, I had to proceed on foot.

To avoid being spotted or noticed, I lay flat against the slope to observe the inhabitants. Once again, I utilized the Magical Tool, transforming it into a pair of binoculars to get a closer look.

Through the lenses, I saw humans clad in nothing but leaves. The women wore garments that barely concealed their nipples and pussies, leaving their pubic hair easily visible through the gaps. I also noted several males carrying spears made from wooden shafts tipped with sharpened stones.

"Don’t fucking tell me I’ve been sent to the past, like 10,000 B.C., or even the Stone Age. If that's true, I'm absolutely screwed. How am I supposed to survive among these savages?" I cursed under my breath.

Suddenly, a prompt echoed within my mind...

[Congratulations, Host! You have successfully identified your current era as the Stone Age. As a reward for this discovery, you have been awarded 100 Pervert Points.]

"Motherfucker..." The word left my lips as a low, stunned growl while my fingers clutched the damp soil. The system hadn't just moved me—it had thrown me into the ancient past.

Or perhaps it wasn't the past at all. It could be some parallel world, a distorted mirror of history where the fundamental rules and Cultivation were different.

I let out a sharp breath, my thoughts spinning. "The Stone Age. Actual fucking 10,000 B.C." No cities, no tech, and no laws. Just raw survival, and here I was—Dexter Williams, immortal pervert—dropped into the middle of it like a cruel joke.

I checked my reward: 100 Pervert Points. It was a meager consolation for being in this bizarre world. I cursed the system for my predicament, yet I couldn't ignore the fact that it had preserved my life.

I was now an immortal existence in the Stone Age, a realization that sent a shiver of thrill through my spine. The possibilities were massive, both terrifying and exhilarating.

I could become a GOD to these primitive tribes, reigning over this virgin world.

With 100 Pervert Points now available, I made a quick purchase. I bought a bottle of water for a tiny cost of 2 Pervert Points.

It materialized in my grip, cold and covered in condensation. I took a deep drink, feeling the liquid move down my throat. It was a basic pleasure, but in a world like this? It was pure luxury.

Staring at the empty bottle, a thought occurred to me. I looked at the system storage, that virtual void that seemed to ignore the laws of physics.

I wondered if I could store items back inside. With a simple thought, I willed the empty bottle into the system storage, and it vanished from my hand. I chuckled; it was incredible. With infinite storage, the possibilities were endless.

Still, I sighed at my current state. I was actually getting excited over a damn bottle of water.

I thought of the luxuries I once enjoyed—the cars, the social power—all of it was gone. But looking at the Supermarket Store, I knew I could eventually recreate every luxury and perhaps even surpass them.

To achieve that, however, I needed more Pervert Points, and for those, I needed women. I turned my focus back to the tribal women to see what they were really like.

Lying there with binoculars in hand, a wave of desire washed over me. The women of the village were stunning, their bodies hardened and shaped by daily physical labor.

The first woman I spotted was seated outside her hut, her face a perfect blend of beauty and power. Her skin tone reminded me of a hot Mexican beauty—neither fully white nor brown, but a unique, sexy shade. Her breasts were massive, round and full, tipped with dark, erect nipples that practically begged for attention.

She had a slim waist that flowed into wide hips, which swayed with a seductive rhythm as she moved. Long, raven-black hair fell down her back, framing high cheekbones and full, pouting lips.

The other women were just as striking, possessing slim yet curvaceous bodies with skin tones ranging from creamy white to rich caramel. All of them had long hair reaching their waists, a sharp contrast to the rugged world they inhabited. Their breasts were firm and full, with hard, inviting nipples.

Their thighs were thick and powerful from their daily work. Upon those thighs were intricate tattoos—swirling red and black patterns that seemed to pulse as they moved. These markings stood out against their skin, appearing to tell the legends of their lives and struggles.

They wore necklaces crafted from bone. In my old world, that might have seemed macabre, but here, they were beautiful—a symbol of their resilience and strength.

The bones were smooth and polished, catching the light in this rough environment. Resting between their breasts, the bone ornaments seemed to nestle comfortably against the warmth of their skin.