Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

I wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her in tighter—deliberately slow, letting the movement linger. Angela’s fingers toyed idly with the hair at the nape of my neck, her body molding against mine with practiced ease. The firelight gilded her skin, turning the moment intimate, almost theatrical.

Mira watched for a second too long. Something flickered across her face—uncomfortable, uncertain, a tiny shadow of envy or displacement.

She shifted away quietly, scooting closer to Lisa’s side on the grass.

Lisa draped a casual arm around her shoulders in silent solidarity, offering a small, reassuring squeeze.

Mira leaned into it, but her eyes kept darting back to us—Angela’s head on my shoulder, my hand resting low on Angela’s hip—before she forced them away to the dying embers.

Inside, satisfaction hummed low and dark.

The magic of the pizza had softened her edges, made her grateful, made her linger in our circle. But this—this small display of Angela’s claim—stirred something else. A quiet ache. A question she wouldn’t voice yet: Where do I fit?

Exactly where I wanted her: close enough to feel the warmth, far enough to crave more.

Angela pressed a lazy kiss to my jaw, then whispered just loud enough for the group, ”Let’s not scare her off, hmm?”

I chuckled softly, eyes still on Mira. ”Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I turned fully toward Angela, drawing her down until she lay draped across me like warm silk over steel. Her body settled with a slow, deliberate roll—her heavy breasts crushing softly against my chest, nipples already stiff and dragging through the thin fabric of her top with every shallow breath.

The weight of them pressed into me, full and yielding, molding to my contours as if made for this exact contact.

My hands slid lower, tracing the dip of her spine before cupping the lush, rounded swell of her ass—both palms spreading wide to claim as much as possible. I squeezed hard, fingers digging deep into the plush flesh, kneading with slow, possessive rhythm.

The meat of her cheeks filled my grip perfectly—soft yet firm, warm and trembling slightly under the pressure.

I pulled her hips down tighter against mine, letting her feel the growing hardness trapped between us, grinding her core against it in one long, deliberate drag.

Angela’s breath hitched. Then came the moan—low at first, throaty and raw, building into something shamelessly horny that echoed softly over the crackling fire.

”Husband...” she gasped, voice thick with mock protest, ”...what are you doing...?” She arched her back just enough to push her ass harder into my hands, inviting another deep squeeze. ”Mira and Lisa are watching... control yourself...”

She said it loud—deliberately loud—each word dripping with feigned scandal so Mira couldn’t pretend to hear.

I chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through both our bodies. My fingers flexed again, gripping tighter, spreading her cheeks slightly through the fabric before kneading inward with slow, filthy circles.

The motion rolled her hips in tiny, teasing thrusts against my cock—enough friction to make her clit throb, enough to make her soak through her panties if she wasn’t already.

”Hmm,” I murmured, lips brushing the shell of her ear, voice pitched low but carrying, ”how the fuck do you expect me to control myself... when your ass feels this good in my hands? So full... so greedy for it...”

Angela let out another moan—louder this time, pornographic and unashamed—her thighs clenching around my hips as if trying to trap the sensation. Her nails dug lightly into my shoulders.

Then, with exaggerated suddenness, she pulled back, propping herself on her elbows so her breasts swayed heavily above me, nipples straining visibly against her shirt.

”Don’t... don’t bully me like that,” she whined, biting her lower lip in that pretend-shy way she knew drove me wild. Her cheeks flushed a convincing pink; her eyes sparkled with mischief. ”You’re terrible... I’m going back to Mira’s side before you ruin me right here...”

She slid off me with torturous slowness—dragging her breasts down my chest, letting her ass brush the length of my erection one last time as she rose. A final, teasing wiggle of her hips, then she sauntered away, ass swaying with every step like an invitation left hanging.

Mira hadn’t blinked once.

She sat frozen, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tight around them. Her gaze was locked on the space Angela had just vacated—on the imprint of her body against mine, on my hands still flexed from squeezing, on the blatant outline of my arousal straining against my pants.

Color climbed high on Mira’s cheeks; her lips parted on a silent breath. She swallowed hard, throat working visibly. Her thighs pressed together almost imperceptibly—seeking pressure, seeking relief she wouldn’t admit to needing.

Lisa’s arm stayed around her shoulders, thumb stroking soothing circles, but even Lisa’s eyes flicked toward me with quiet amusement.

Angela dropped down beside Mira with a dramatic little huff, stretching out so her head pillowed near Mira’s thigh. ”See?” she teased, reaching up to poke Mira’s knee playfully. ”He’s impossible. You’re much safer over here with us good girls...”

Mira forced a shaky laugh, but it came out thin, breathless. Her eyes darted back to me—lingering on my mouth, my hands, the lazy sprawl of my body—before snapping away to the embers. She shifted, crossing her ankles tightly, fingers twisting in the grass.

I shot Angela an annoyed look—half real, half theater—narrowing my eyes as if to say you started this. My cock was still thick and straining painfully against the front of my pants, the outline unmistakable in the low firelight.

I shifted my hips and casually dropped one hand over the bulge, palm pressing down firmly to hide it... or maybe to give it one slow, discreet squeeze for relief. The pressure only made it twitch harder.

Angela’s gaze flicked straight to my hand. Her lips curved into a wicked, knowing chuckle—low and throaty, the sound sliding over my skin like fingertips. She bit her lower lip for a second, eyes sparkling with mischief, clearly delighted at the effect she’d had.

A few beats of charged silence passed. The fire had burned down to glowing coals now, casting everything in soft, ruddy amber. Crickets thrummed in the dark beyond the glade.

Then Angela stretched languidly, arching her back so her breasts lifted and strained against her shirt again. She rose to her feet with feline grace, brushing imaginary grass from her thighs.

Facing Mira and Lisa—but making sure I could see every angle—she gave me a slow, conspiratorial wink over her shoulder. Then, in a voice pitched sweet and casual, she announced:

”I’m going to relieve myself... out there in the trees.” She tilted her head toward the shadowed edge of the glade. ”Do any of you want to come together? Safety in numbers, right?”

Lisa didn’t hesitate. She pushed up from the grass with a small grin. ”Yeah... count me in. I could use it too.”