Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Sabina stared straight at my dick, eyes wide, practically drooling. She peeked up, sounding all needy—”So, um... is this okay? Just... leaving it like that?”

I shrugged and messed with my skirt, playing it cool. ”Yeah, whatever. I’m good.”

Honestly, didn’t make a damn difference. She just kept staring—locked in on that spot like she was either peeling off my skirt in her head or losing a battle with herself not to. You could pretty much read the math in her eyes, like she was scoping out the fabric for a chink in the armor.

Ravina broke the silence. ”Enough. We ride.” She vaulted onto her horse first, then yanked me up behind her—just like before. The moment I settled, my cock pressed against her, unmistakable. A beat of stillness. She knew.

The other women just swung up onto their horses, dead silent, but honestly? The air was buzzing, thick with all the stuff nobody was saying out loud. We started riding again.

Hooves thumping like a heartbeat, not hiding a damn thing—my cock rubbing up against Ravina’s ass every time the horse moved, her breath catching when I pressed a little harder, like she couldn’t help it.

”It hasn’t... softened,” she murmured, glancing back. Not an accusation. Curiosity. ”Does it always stay like this?”

I yanked her in closer, lips nipping at her earlobe as a crooked grin spread on my face. ”It calms... once I release my seed.”

Seriously, my brain was fried—just wanted to ruin her. Right there, didn’t give a shit if anyone caught us. I was aching, cock like steel, pressing up against her ass, and every time that damn horse jolted, it pushed me closer, rubbing right where she was desperate for it.

I leaned in, slow as sin, just to see how far I could push it—then Ravina snapped, her back arching up, this wild little cry spilling out. Honestly? That sound? Better than any God damn song.

My palms slid up, greedy, over her belly and up her chest. I claimed her tits, rolling her nipples between my fingers until they peaked—sharp, needy. She writhed, but hell, I had her trapped. Nowhere for her to run. ”Elder Ravina,” I murmured, my mouth right at her ear, all heat and teeth, ”look how hard your nipples are. Like little stones. Do they ache?”

She arched, voice strained: ”H-Hmph. Your fault—your hands have rubbed them...” The same excuse Kerry had fed me once: rub them right, and their nipples tighten, their cunts weep. Pathetic how predictable they were.

She choked, her hips jerking—yes.

I asked with slight teasing, ” Elder Ravina... is your pussy also dripping water... now... do you need me to heal them?”

Ravina didn’t reply....” You are here to treat Helen, not me, and don’t worry, it will be fine in a while.”

The tribe’s clearing burst into view too soon—naked Amazonian warriors, spears glinting, their bodies slick with oil and sweat. They turned as one, eyes locking onto me—onto the way Ravina was ridden hard, her skirt hitched, her thighs trembling around my hand.

Ravina jerked the reins—man, the poor horse nearly lost its mind, hooves scrabbling in the dirt. Every single woman around us just... stalled out, jaws going slack.

I could feel their eyes drilling into the spot where my fingers lingered, still circling Ravina’s nipple, and, yeah, my cock pressed against her ass—throbbing like it actually had its own damn pulse.

”Enough,” Ravina snapped. Or tried to snap—she kind of failed. Like, her voice just collapsed at the end, her whole tough act slipping. She swung her leg over the horse’s neck, tried to play it cool on the dismount, but ended up stumbling—thighs sticking, breathing all ragged. Not exactly queen-of-the-battlefield material.

All the warriors were watching. Their glances kept ping-ponging between her and me. They definitely picked up on the weird vibes.

”This boy,” Ravina growled, sticking her chin at me like I was some weird street find, ”he’s a healer. For Sister Helen.”

Nobody said anything for a second. Then—laughter broke out. Not the nice kind. Sharp, oily. One of them even licked her lips (I wish I were making this up). ”Healer, huh?”

Meanwhile, Sabina started telling everyone about my, uh, situation. You know. Getting hard around ”dirty women.” Thanks a lot, Sabina.

Pretty sure she’s trying to keep me trapped here. Her own little baby-making machine or whatever. Bold of her, honestly, but not exactly flattering.

The women stood there, mouths open. Ravina just mumbled, ”We’ll, uh, think about it later...”

No one said anything after that. Probably too busy picturing the world’s worst group project.

I adjusted the aching bulge in my skirt with a slow, deliberate drag of my palm, the fabric clinging to the throbbing heat of my cock. The movement was lewd, unapologetic—a silent promise of what I could give them.

Oh, I heal alright,... heal your asshole.. beat that ass of your hard enough so that you can remember it for a lifetime. Our eyes collided, a clash of wills—hers desperate, mine amused.

My eyes swept over the crowd of warriors—skin shining, muscles taut, dripping sweat under the raw daylight. Their spears? Shaky as hell, like they’d forgotten which end was up. The whole place stank of oil and dust and something a helluva lot more primal—yeah, that thick, raw scent of hunger. A different kind of need, the sort that doesn’t wanna wait.

Everything stopped for a moment. No one talked. Next thing I know, Ravina clamps down on my wrist, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. Not a word outta her, just this wild look and feet scuffing up dirt, dragging me straight to the biggest hut like she’s hauling me to the judge.

Everyone else? Standing back, but watching with that hungry, wide-eyed stare—mouths parted, but not saying a damn thing. Honestly, it was like the whole crowd forgot how to breathe.

Inside the hut, you practically choke on the heat. Helen sprawled on the stone bed, which seemed wet from her sweat.. and she was panting hard in her sleep.

Ravina just collapsed next to her sister, kneeling, not even caring about her dignity anymore. ”Please,” she begged, voice all hoarse and rough around the edges, like she’d been screaming into the wind. Pride? Long gone.

”She’s been like this for days,” Ravina snapped, shooting me this wild mix of daggers and pleading. ”But you—you have to heal her. I don’t care what you have to do. Just make her better.”

I crouched beside Helen, close enough to feel the heat rolling off her in waves. I touched her head, feeling her hot head... which was burning up, and her whole body was covered in sweat, and it kept dripping, and her lips were dry.

She wasn’t just hot—no, she was incandescent, like someone had tossed her into a furnace and forgotten to take her out. Her chest jerked up and down, all ragged and uneven, each breath snagging.

I wasn’t a doctor, but I know it’s like a Fever.

”Interesting,” I murmured.