Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Mira’s tears dripped from her chin, splashing onto the rock inches from my face—warm, salty drops that landed on my cheek.

I climbed higher—pretending every inch cost me blood, breath, and will—until my hand was within reach.

Mira’s fingers brushed mine—shaking violently.

”Yeah... just give me your hand... we’ve got you... We’ve got you, Dexter... come on—come on—!”

I reached up—fingertips touching hers—then deliberately pulled back, letting my ”grip” slip a fraction, letting my body sag as though my strength was failing.

”It’s too dangerous, Mira...” I rasped, voice thick with fake pain and exhaustion. ”If we’re not careful... I might pull you both down... I—I can’t risk that... not you... not Bill... I’d rather fall than take you with me...”

Mira shook her head frantically—tears flying.

”No—no—no—just give us your hand—there are two of us—pulling you is not difficult—please, Dexter—please trust us—please let us save you!”

Bill suddenly leaned further out—guilt written across his face, voice small.

”Mom... let me pull him up. Let me do it. Please.”

Mira hesitated—then nodded quickly, voice trembling.

”Okay—Bill—grab him—careful—be careful—don’t let go—!”

I extended my hand.

Bill’s sweaty palm closed around my wrist—shaking, uncertain.

I planted my feet against the cliff face and pushed downward—subtle, steady force—so no matter how hard Bill pulled, I barely budged.

Mira frowned—confusion cutting through her panic.

”Bill—what are you doing? Why can’t you pull him—? Pull harder—pull with everything—!”

She leaned further—reaching down with her other hand to grab my wrist beside Bill’s.

As soon as her fingers locked around me—strong, desperate—I released the downward pressure.

They pulled together—and I rose a few inches.

Mira’s voice lit with desperate hope.

”Yeah—just a bit more—Bill, what are you doing? Pull—pull harder—use both hands—!”

Bill’s grip was slick with sweat—trembling, slipping.

I thought of something better—something crueler, more perfect.

Heh... it would be fun to see Mira turn against Bill... but he is her son. How can a mother really hate her son? But still, I can create a gap in their relationship.

I opened the Supermarket Store interface in my mind.

Poison Ring: A ring. As soon as it is pressed, releases a spray to make the other feel numb. 100 Pervert Points.

Purchased.

It materialized instantly in the fingers of the hand Bill was holding—cool metal sliding onto my index finger.

I pressed the hidden trigger.

A fine, odorless mist sprayed across Bill’s palm.

His fingers went slack in an instant—numb, useless. He couldn’t even close them around my wrist anymore.

All my weight suddenly dropped onto Mira alone.

She gasped—eyes widening in shock and fresh panic.

”Bill—what are you doing—?! Hold on—HOLD ON—! Don’t let go—Bill—!”

Her grip tightened desperately—both hands now locked around my wrist, nails digging into my skin, muscles straining.

I cooperated—letting her pull me up inch by inch—until my chest cleared the edge.

Mira hauled me the last distance with a grunt of effort—dragging me onto solid ground, collapsing backward with me half on top of her.

The moment I was safe, she threw herself over me—arms wrapping around my neck, body pressing tight against mine.

I could feel her heavy breasts crushed against my chest—soft, warm, heaving with every ragged, sobbing breath.

”Dexter—oh God—Dexter—you’re safe—you’re safe—you’re alive—”

She buried her face in my neck—tears soaking my skin, body shaking so violently I could feel every tremor ripple through her.

I wrapped my arms around her—gentle, protective—holding her like she was the only thing keeping me anchored to the world.

Behind her, Bill stood frozen—hands limp at his sides, face pale, staring at his numb fingers in confusion and growing shame.

Mira pulled back just enough to cup my face—thumbs brushing dirt and fake blood from my cheeks, tears still pouring.

”I thought I lost you,” she whispered, voice breaking again and again. ”I thought you were gone forever. ”

I met her eyes—soft, steady, letting her see every ounce of the ”hero” she needed me to be.

” Don’t worry, I am fine... ” I said, gently wiping her tears.

Then she hugged me again—tighter—whispering brokenly against my ear:

”Thank you... thank you for saving my son... thank you for coming back to me... thank you for not dying...”

I held her close—feeling her heartbeat thunder against mine—and smiled into her hair where she couldn’t see.

The ring was already gone—dissolved back into inventory.

Bill stood silent—his hand hanging uselessly, guilt and confusion written across his young face.

Mira finally turned her head—eyes narrowing as she saw Bill standing there, not helping, not moving, just staring at his own hand.

Her expression shifted—relief giving way to confusion, then to dawning anger.

”Bill... why didn’t you pull? Why did you let go? I felt it—your hand just... stopped. What happened?”

Bill stammered, voice small.

”I—I don’t know, Mom—my hand—it went numb—I couldn’t—I couldn’t hold on—”

Mira’s face hardened.

”Numb? You let go because your hand went numb? He was hanging there—Dexter was hanging there—and you just... let go?”

Bill shrank back.

”I didn’t mean to—I swear—I tried—”

Mira stood up—still holding me, but her body tense with sudden fury.

She turned fully toward Bill.

”You tried? You tried? He almost died saving you—again—and you couldn’t even hold on for ten seconds?”

Her voice rose—sharp, trembling with rage.

Bill took a step back.

”Mom—I—”

She stepped forward—fast.

Her hand cracked across his cheek—harder than before, the sound echoing like a gunshot.

Bill’s head snapped to the side. A red handprint bloomed instantly on his skin.

”Don’t you dare make excuses!” Mira shouted, tears still falling but now mixed with fury. ”He threw himself off a cliff for you! He could have died—for you! And you stand there whining about your hand going numb? You ungrateful—selfish—little—”

She raised her hand again.

Bill flinched—tears welling in his eyes.

”Mom—please—I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—”

Mira’s hand froze mid-air.

She looked at him—really looked—and something broke in her expression.

She dropped her arm.

Her shoulders sagged.

She turned back to me—eyes filling again.

”I’m sorry, Dexter... I’m so sorry...”

She sank down beside me—pulling me close again, burying her face in my shoulder.

I stroked her hair—soft, soothing.

”It’s okay,” I murmured. ”He’s just a kid. He’s scared. He’s in shock. Its not his fault. Don’t blame him.”

Mira nodded against me—sobbing quietly.

Bill stood there—cheek flaming, eyes down, tears dripping onto the dirt.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t move.

He just stared at his numb hand... and at the way his mother clung to me like I was the only solid thing left in her world.

I held Mira tighter.

And smiled—small, hidden, victorious—into her hair.

The slap had been perfect.

The numbness had been perfect.

Her anger at her own son—perfect.

Now, every time she looked at Bill, she’d remember how he ”failed” her in that moment.

And every time she looked at me, she’d remember how I never did.

How I saved her son.