Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Angela smiled sweetly—too sweetly. She stepped closer to Mira, bending slightly to pick up the water bottle from the rock. As she did, her new pants pulled tight across her ass, the damp spot catching the sunlight for just a second.

”Sounds perfect,” Angela said, voice light. ”A nice, private cave... deep inside. Safe from everything outside.” She straightened, meeting Mira’s eyes for a heartbeat longer than necessary. ”We can really... settle in there.”

Mira swallowed hard. Her thighs pressed together again—subtle, but I caught it. She nodded quickly, too quickly.

”Y-yeah. Settle in. Good plan.”

I stood up fully now, stretching until my shirt rode up, showing a strip of skin. Angela moved to my side, slipping her hand into mine again like last night—casual, possessive.

”Let’s go there,” I said, looking at each of them in turn. My gaze lingered on Mira just long enough to make her flush deepen. ”Wouldn’t want to waste daylight. Especially not when there’s a nice, dark, quiet place waiting for us.”

Angela squeezed my hand. ”Mm. Can’t wait.”

Mira looked away first—staring at the horizon like it might save her.

We started moving toward the cave, the morning sun already climbing, turning the forest into a humid, golden haze.

Lisa and Angela walked ahead, side by side—Lisa chattering brightly about how nice running water would feel on her face, Angela nodding along with that easy, practiced smile she wore when she didn’t want to give anything away.

But Angela’s walk was different today. Slower. More careful. Each step was measured, hips swaying just a fraction less than usual, thighs brushing together with tiny, deliberate pauses.

I could see the faint wince she tried to hide every time her weight shifted forward—her swollen, tender pussy protesting the rough pounding I’d given it last night.

The new pants hugged her ass and crotch like a second skin, but that dark, damp patch at the front hadn’t faded; if anything, it looked a little bigger in the daylight, the fabric clinging wetly where my cum was still slowly seeping out of her.

Mira walked a step behind them—right beside me.

She noticed.

Of course she did.

Her eyes kept darting to Angela’s careful gait, to the subtle hitch in her stride, to the way Angela occasionally pressed her thighs together mid-step like she was trying to soothe the ache without anyone seeing.

Mira’s cheeks stayed flushed a permanent pink; she bit her lower lip hard enough to leave little white marks, but she didn’t say a single word. Didn’t ask about the pants.

Didn’t comment on Angela’s limp. Just kept her gaze flicking between the path ahead and the woman who’d been fucked senseless while she hid in the shadows listening.

The silence between us was thick—charged. Every few steps, I could hear Mira’s breathing catch, shallow and uneven, like she was replaying last night in her head on loop.

I let my mind drift inward, pulling up the system interface with a casual mental flick. The familiar translucent panel shimmered into view, visible only to me.

Pervert Debauchery System

Name: Dexter Williams

Age: 22

Skills: None

Abilities: Healing Factor, Limit Breaker, Universal Language, Eternal Vitality, Cuckold God, Nexus, Pervert Insight, Beast Tamer

Beast Tamed: Ants( 14921)

Pervert Points: 5,64,895

Harem: Ruth, Kerry, Ada, Helen, Agatha, Ravina, Hina, Kina, Vera, Wendy, Emily, Jennifer, Nathalie

System Storage: Gun, Magical Tool, Used items include Virus Immunity Needle, Soothing Cream, and more.

SUPER-MARKET STORE: The store offered anything I desired—food, clothing, skills, abilities, or even the most depraved experiences—all in exchange for Pervert Points.

I scrolled through the latest notifications, a slow, filthy grin spreading across my face as the system laid out my rewards in stark, obscene detail—each one dripping with the kind of depravity it loved to reward.

[Turning Doctor Anya into a dripping, cock-starved slut and making her beg to have her tight medical pussy stuffed full of my thick dick until she came screaming – 25,000 Pervert Points]

[Pounding Nathalie’s married cunt raw in deep, brutal missionary, pinning her legs back so I could slam balls-deep while she clawed my back and sobbed my name – 10,000 Pervert Points]

[Fucking Olivia like a cheap whore until her greedy little snatch gushed and squirted all over my cock and thighs – 30,000 Pervert Points]

[Railing Angela’s sloppy, cum-hungry jungle cunt out in the open like a feral animal, balls slapping her ass, and Mira pretended not to hear the wet fucking sounds – 100,000 Pervert Points]

That last notification hit like a drug. One hundred fucking thousand. A massive, throbbing payout just for turning a raw, public pounding into the ultimate voyeur tease—making Mira watch (and listen) while I wrecked Angela’s hole, then forcing her to stew in the aftermath: the swollen walk, the leaking cum-stain, the casual flaunting of what she’d only dared to spy on.

I dismissed the panel with a lazy mental flick, my cock already twitching half-hard in my pants again just from reading the words. My eyes slid sideways to Mira.

She was staring dead ahead now, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jump under her skin. Her hands were balled into white-knuckled fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms like she was physically fighting the urge to shove one hand down her jeans and rub her aching clit right there on the trail.

Every few steps, Mira’s breath hitched—short, needy little gasps she tried desperately to swallow before they became audible. She knew exactly what that faint, rhythmic squelching sound coming from Angela meant with every careful sway of her hips.

The thick, musky reek of my cum was probably drifting to her on the warm breeze, too—hot, salty, unmistakable proof that Angela’s cunt was still leaking me out hours later, ruined and swollen from the brutal fucking she’d taken while Mira hid and fingered herself raw in the shadows.

My Pervert Points had climbed to 5,64,895. Halfway to seven figures. Close... but not close enough. I needed to hit 1,000,000 fast—really fast—so I could afford something truly broken from the SUPER-MARKET STORE.

Telepathy would be perfect. Slipping into minds, reading every filthy secret, planting thoughts like seeds until they begged to spread their legs for me.

Or better yet, full mind control—turning women into eager, dripping puppets who’d drop to their knees and thank me for using them. The possibilities made my cock twitch just thinking about it.