Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Chapter 356: Mira’s Challenge: Explain That Hard-On

Mira’s face burned an even deeper crimson, the flush spreading down her neck and across the tops of her still-exposed breasts.

Her hands flew up instinctively, palms cupping the heavy swells as though that small gesture could erase the evidence of her arousal—the stiff, dark nipples pebbled tight against her skin, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her thighs clamped together so hard the muscles trembled.

A thin sheen of sweat glistened between her cleavage, catching the firelight like liquid gold.

"S-Shut up!" she hissed, but the words came out fractured, breathless, more plea than command. Her voice cracked on the last syllable, betraying her.

I let out a low, dark chuckle that rumbled from my chest. The sound seemed to vibrate through the small space between us, making her flinch.

Instead of scooting back to lean against the wall like before, Mira twisted sharply away from me. She turned her back, presenting the long, elegant line of her spine, the gentle dip at her lower back, the perfect twin curves of her ass. She sat facing the far wall now, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tightly around herself in a futile attempt to shield what I’d already seen—and tasted.

For a long moment, there was only the crackle of the fire and our uneven breathing.

Then, in a voice tight with humiliated fury, she spoke without turning around.

"If you tell anyone about what happened here... I’ll castrate you, Dexter. I swear to god."

The threat hung in the air, sharp and ridiculous given how thoroughly she’d just come apart beneath me minutes ago.

I leaned back on my hands, cock still half-hard and glistening between my spread thighs, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make her squirm.

Finally, I snorted, injecting as much mock disgust into my tone as I could muster.

"Hmph. As if I’d ever want to ruin my reputation by admitting I saw something so... filthy." I dragged the last word out, letting it drip with exaggerated revulsion. "You should be the one begging me to keep quiet."

Mira’s shoulders stiffened. Her head whipped around so fast her dark hair lashed across her cheek.

"You..." she snarled, eyes blazing, lips parted in outrage.

The single word cracked like a whip.

I met her glare head-on, letting a slow, predatory smile curl my mouth.

"You what, Mira?" I taunted softly.

Her breath caught audibly. I saw the exact moment the memory slammed back into her—the way her pupils blew wide, the fresh tremor that raced down her spine, the way her thighs squeezed together again, harder this time, as though trying to trap the phantom ache between them.

Mira’s sudden outburst sliced through the heavy silence like a dull blade—raw, defensive, and trembling with something far deeper than anger. She still faced away from me, knees hugged so tight to her chest that her knuckles had gone white, but her voice carried the weight of every insecurity I’d just prodded awake.

"Fuck off..." she muttered first, almost to herself. Then louder, sharper: "Hmph... are you really disgusted with a woman just because she hasn’t shaved down there? Then soon you’ll be disgusted with your wife... because here you can’t even have food... so forget about shaving. It’ll be just another jungle down there."

Mira’s scoff cut sharp through the crackling quiet—a small, triumphant sound, as she’d finally landed a blow that stuck. Her shoulders relaxed just a fraction, the hunch easing as if my half-concession had handed her the win she’d been scrabbling for.

But I wasn’t done.

I let the silence hang another second, just long enough for her little victory to feel solid.

Then I spoke again, voice low and deliberate, each word dropping like a stone into still water.

"Well... you might be right..."

She huffed again, softer this time—almost a laugh, bitter and satisfied.

I leaned in closer, close enough that my breath stirred the damp strands of hair at the nape of her neck.

"But that doesn’t mean I would ever touch that filthy thing of yours."

The air between us snapped taut.

In anger, Mira turned to face me and glare at me. The small sound of triumph died in her throat.

"Who wants you to touch it..." she snapped, voice pitching high with fury and something dangerously close to hurt. "No—no one told you to look at it!"

Her words tumbled out in a rush, defensive, almost panicked. Her hands flew down instinctively between her thighs again—not quite covering, just hovering, as though she could shield herself from the memory of my mouth there minutes ago.

Mira turned away again in a sharp twist, curling her body inward as she could disappear into the shadows against the wall. Her arms crossed tight over her chest, knees drawn up high, trying to shield every inch of skin from my stare—but it was useless.

The firelight was merciless, catching the sheen of sweat on her back, the faint tremble in her thighs, the way those dark curls between her legs still glistened with the evidence of everything we’d already done.

She huffed—a short, annoyed sound meant to sound dismissive—but there was a husky edge to it, a coquettish lilt that betrayed her completely.

"Hmph... you’re saying I’m disgusting, then why are you so hard?"

The words slipped out bold and unexpected, hanging in the smoky air like a dare. I felt my brows lift in genuine surprise.

This was new—Mira, the same woman who’d been threatening castration minutes ago, now throwing my own arousal back in my face with that teasing, almost playful bite in her voice.

I let out a low, rumbling chuckle, shifting closer until my knees brushed the backs of her thighs. My cock—thick, rigid, veins standing out in the flickering glow—bobbed heavily with the movement, the head already slick and flushed dark. I didn’t bother hiding it. Why would I?

"I didn’t say your body isn’t hot," I murmured, voice dropping into something darker, rougher. "And those tits..."

My gaze raked deliberately over the side-view of her breasts, still spilling slightly over her crossed arms, nipples tight and begging despite her attempt to hide them. "Damn. They’re as big as my wife’s. Full. Heavy. Perfect for my hands. For my mouth."

I leaned in, close enough that she could feel the heat rolling off me, the brush of my breath against her ear.

"And I’m not a eunuch like your husband," I continued, letting the words sink in slowly and deliberately.