Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Chapter 375: Olivia & Nancy 2

”Mr. Dexter,” she said, clearing her throat and attempting to summon her clinical tone, ”the therapeutic model is now optimally positioned. We recommend you... Proceed with insertion to assess compatibility and ejaculatory response. Please maintain a steady rhythm—approximately 1.5 to 2 thrusts per second initially—and aim for full penetration to engage the internal texturing.”

But the words cracked at the edges. Her eyes never left the swollen, purple head of my cock, still glistening where it had dragged across her lips.

A tiny bead of my pre-cum remained smeared on her lower lip; she licked it away again—slow, deliberate—then caught herself and pressed her mouth into a thin line.

Nancy stepped up on my other side, clipboard clutched to her chest like a shield, though her knuckles were white and her breathing audible. ”Scientifically speaking,” she added, voice higher than usual, ”the model’s internal temperature is calibrated to 37.2°C, with self-lubricating channels that simulate natural arousal response.”

”You should feel... significant resistance at first, followed by... rhythmic contraction. It’s designed to mimic... to mimic the real thing quite convincingly.” Her last words came out breathy, almost a whisper. She swallowed hard. ”Very convincingly.”

Olivia guided me forward another half-step, her hand still wrapped around the thick base—fingers not quite meeting, thumb resting possessively over the pulsing vein.

The slick head nudged the doll’s parted silicone labia; they yielded instantly, parting with a soft, wet schlick as the first inch sank in. ”Ease in slowly at first,” Olivia instructed, though her voice dropped an octave, turning husky.

”Feel how the entrance grips... how it flutters around the corona... just like... just like a real cunt clenching when it’s desperate for more.” She froze, cheeks flaming as the vulgar word slipped out. ”I—I mean, when it’s... maximally stimulated. For data accuracy.”

Nancy made a small, choked sound and shifted her weight, thighs pressing together so hard the fabric of her scrubs whispered. ”Correct,” she managed.

”Observe the way the model’s internal ridges engage on the upstroke. They’re textured to... to milk the cock. To encourage... prolonged erection and increased seminal output.” Her clipboard trembled slightly. ”God, it’s already taking you so deep... look how the silicone stretches around your girth...”

I groaned low as I sank another few inches—the doll’s fake pussy hot, rippling, squeezing in programmed waves that felt far too lifelike.

Olivia’s hand stayed on me the entire time, sliding up the cock with my thrusts, fingers slick with the overflow of pre-cum that kept leaking from the tip.

”Deeper, Mr. Dexter,” she urged, the professional mask slipping again. ”Bottom out. Let her feel every thick inch... make her take it all like a good little fuck-toy—fuck, I mean therapeutic aid. Push until your balls are flush against the base. We need... we need to document maximum depth penetration.”

Behind us, Nathalie let out a strangled sob of jealousy. Her fingers were buried three-deep in her own dripping cunt now, thumb grinding her clit in frantic circles while Anya—still kneeling—watched with dark, glassy eyes, one hand unconsciously cupping her own breast through her white coat.

”Olivia... you fucking whore,” Nathalie gasped, hips bucking. ”Stop touching his cock... stop guiding him... that’s my husband’s dick... my cum is still leaking out of my wrecked asshole, and you’re jerking him off like you’re next in line...”

Anya exhaled shakily, finally speaking. ”Focus, everyone,” she tried, though her voice was wrecked. ”This is... purely observational. Mr. Dexter, increase tempo. We need to observe... ejaculatory force and volume. Nancy, prepare the collection receptacle if overflow occurs.”

Nancy fumbled for a small sterile cup on the side table, but her eyes stayed glued to where Olivia’s hand was now openly stroking me in time with my thrusts into the doll—slow pumps that matched the wet schlick-schlick of silicone being fucked.

”Jesus... look at how it’s gripping him,” Nancy whispered, forgetting professionalism entirely for a second.

”Every time he pulls back, you can see the fake lips clinging... like they don’t want to let go... fuck, I can hear how wet she’s getting inside...”

Olivia’s breath hitched. She leaned closer, her cheek—still bearing the faint red imprint and glistening pre-cum streak—brushing my hip. ”Harder now,” she urged, voice pure filth wrapped in a clinical veneer.

”Pound her. Make the model shake. Show us how you ruin a tight hole... how you flood it until it’s overflowing. For... for the record.”

My hips snapped forward harder on the next thrust—bottoming out with a wet slap of skin on silicone. The doll’s heavy tits jiggled; internal mechanisms hummed louder, clenching in greedy pulses around my cock.

Nathalie came first—untouched except by her own fingers—back arching off the recliner, a high, broken scream tearing from her throat as her pussy gushed fresh slick onto Anya’s waiting hand.

”Dexter... fuck... don’t cum in her... cum in me... please... my ass is still open... still throbbing for your real load...”

The room dissolved into pure, vulgar heat—wet thrusts, ragged breaths, slipping masks, and the obscene symphony of four women losing every last shred of restraint while I fucked a doll inches from my leaking, begging wife.

Nancy slipped behind me as she’d finally given up pretending this was anything clinical. Her arms wrapped around my waist—slow at first, almost hesitant, then tightening with sudden, desperate need. Her scrub top pressed against my bare back, the thin fabric already damp with her own sweat, her breasts soft and heavy as they molded to me.

”Mr. Dexter,” she whispered right against my ear, voice shaking so badly it cracked on every syllable, ”let... let me help you. For... for ergonomic... support. Yes. That’s... that’s all this is.”

Her hips rolled forward in the same breath she said it.

She pressed herself flush against my ass, thighs bracketing mine, and humped—there was no other word for it. A slow, grinding push that drove my cock another thick inch deeper into the doll’s slick silicone cunt.

The motion wasn’t subtle; her pelvis rocked in short, needy thrusts, forcing me forward each time she did. Every roll of her hips made the doll take me harder, deeper, the wet schlurp of pre-cum and silicone echoing louder.

Her breath came in hot, stuttering bursts against the back of my neck. ”I—I’m only... only assisting with... with thrust mechanics,” she stammered, but the words dissolved into a low, broken moan as she ground harder.

”The... the angle is... is suboptimal without... without additional... oh god, you’re so deep in her already... I can feel it... feel how much you’re stretching that... that fake little hole...”

Her hands slid up my sides—meant to be steadying, clearly—then clutched at my ribs like she was afraid I’d pull away. One palm flattened over my stomach, fingers splaying wide, trembling as she pulled me back against her so that she could hump forward again.

The rhythm built: grind, push, grind, push—each one sinking me balls-deep for a heartbeat before she let me drag back, only to slam home harder the next time.

Olivia’s hand was still wrapped around the base of my cock—fingers now slick and shiny—trying to maintain her ”guidance” role even as Nancy fucked me into the doll from behind.