Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

I walked inside the villa slowly, deliberately, each step measured as if I were afraid the moment might shatter like fragile glass.

Every detail felt sacred — the familiar scent of polished marble and fresh flowers in the foyer, the soft golden light spilling from the crystal chandeliers, the quiet elegance that screamed old money and quiet power. This place wasn’t just a house; it was home, the one I had lost the day Peter put a bullet in my skull.

I stepped into the living room and paused.

There she was.

Victoria Williams — my mother, the undisputed business queen of the city — sat gracefully on the wide leather sofa in a crisp charcoal office suit that hugged her mature, elegant figure.

The jacket was tailored to perfection, the white blouse underneath unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of delicate collarbone. Her long legs were crossed with effortless poise, one black stiletto dangling slightly as she reviewed a thick stack of documents with that trademark sharp, calculating focus.

Strands of her dark hair had escaped her elegant updo, framing a face that still turned heads even in her late forties. She looked exactly as I remembered — beautiful, commanding, and fiercely protective.

A few maids in neat uniforms moved around her quietly, arranging a silver tray of fresh-cut fruits, chilled water, and light snacks on the low coffee table.

The moment the maids noticed me standing in the doorway, they straightened and bowed in perfect, synchronized unison.

”Welcome home, Young Master Dexter.”

The simple words landed like a punch straight to the chest. Warmth flooded through me, mixed with a sharp ache.

It had been so fucking long — lifetimes, it felt like — since anyone had spoken to me with that genuine warmth and respect. In the Stone Age, I was a conqueror, a pervert god building a harem through sheer dominance. Here... I was simply their young master again. The contrast made my throat tighten.

I didn’t want them to worry. Not anymore.

With my current power, Peter was nothing — a pathetic insect I could erase from existence with a single thought or a casual use of God Speed. I could make him disappear so cleanly that no one would ever ask questions. But right now, I just wanted this moment. Peace. Family. Normalcy, even if only for a little while.

I walked over and sat down gently beside my mother on the sofa, close enough that our shoulders almost touched. I looked at her softly, then reached out and pressed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her body through the fine fabric of her suit.

Victoria turned her head, her sharp eyes immediately softening with concern as they met mine. She set the documents aside without hesitation.

”What happened, Dexter?” she asked, her voice gentle but laced with that unmistakable maternal authority. ”Tell me. Do you need more money? Don’t worry — Mom will transfer it to your account in a bit. Just say how much.”

Hearing those words — so typical of her, always ready to solve every problem with resources and love — a warm, genuine smile spread across my face. For the first time in what felt like forever, the smile reached my eyes.

”No, Mom... I have enough money now,” I replied softly, my voice steady. ”More than enough.”

Victoria studied me for a moment, then her lips curved into a sly, knowing smile — the kind only a mother who truly understood her son could give.

”Oh, don’t I know my son the best?” she teased lightly, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arching.

”Come on, tell me... which woman did you fall for this time? Is she pretty? Smart? I’ll help you. You know your mother has excellent taste and even better connections. If she’s worthy of my son, I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly.”

I felt a flush of embarrassment creep up my neck, thinking about my previous habits in this life — the endless string of casual flings, the way I used to chase skirts without much thought. Now, with an actual harem waiting for me across time and space, the contrast was almost comical.

”Mom... don’t worry,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. ”I can take care of them myself. Really.”

Victoria chuckled, the sound rich and affectionate, her eyes sparkling with amusement. ”My son is still so shy. Look at you — all grown up and still blushing like when you were sixteen.”

Before I could respond, the sound of steady footsteps echoed from the hallway. My father, Richard Williams, walked in, tall and distinguished in his tailored shirt and slacks, his presence commanding the room without effort.

”Oh? You’re all here,” he said warmly, a pleased smile breaking across his face as he took in the scene. He moved to the opposite sofa and sat down with relaxed authority.

The maids immediately returned, placing glasses of chilled water in front of both my father and me with quiet efficiency before retreating again.

I looked at my parents sitting there — my mother with her elegant strength, my father with his quiet, steady power — and a deep realization settled over me like a warm blanket. This was what I had missed the most.

Not the money, not the status, not even the thrill of conquest. Just this. Simple moments. Family. Being loved without conditions or systems or Pervert Points.

The weight of everything I had been through — dying, waking up in the Stone Age, building an empire of women, gaining god-like powers — pressed against my chest. Yet here, in this living room, surrounded by the two people who had raised me, it all felt strangely distant.

I took a slow sip of water, letting the cool liquid slide down my throat and ground me in the present.

The simple act felt almost sacred. For the first time in what felt like lifetimes, the constant noise in my head — the system notifications, the endless conquests, the dark urges of the Pervert Debauchery System — quieted down to a distant hum.

For now, Peter could wait. Revenge could wait. The system, the harem scattered across time, the time-bending chaos of God Speed... they could all wait.

Right now, I am home.

As the evening deepened, golden sunlight slowly gave way to the warm glow of chandelier lights. The maids moved with quiet efficiency, setting the long dining table with fine porcelain, silverware, and crystal glasses.

The aroma of freshly cooked food soon filled the air — rich, familiar dishes that made my chest tighten with nostalgia: grilled salmon with herbs, buttery garlic mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables glistening with olive oil, and my mother’s signature mushroom soup that I hadn’t tasted since before my death.