Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Chapter 403: Mira Hears Angela’s “I’m Cumming”

Angela’s nails dug deeper into my hip—body arching, pussy spasming wildly as another muffled moan slipped free: "Mmmph... ahh... f-fuck..." She turned it into a fake yawn, but her hips bucked back harder, taking me deeper, her bare lips sucking at my cock like they never wanted to let go.

Mira shifted slightly—propping up higher, eyes narrowing on Angela’s lap where the dark wet patch had spread even further, outlining the shape of her swollen mound. "Angela... your pants... they’re... wet. Did you spill something?"

Angela’s eyes snapped open—panic flashing as I rolled my hips in a deep grind, stirring her depths, cockhead dragging over every sensitive ridge.

Her clit caught on the rough denim edge again—rubbing raw, sending shocks up her spine. A fresh squirt leaked out around my base, soaking the torn fabric further.

"I-I... it’s... nnh... just... sweat..." Angela stammered, voice breaking into a muffled whimper—"Mmmphhh... oh g-god..."—as I thrust harder, cock pulsing inside her fluttering cunt. "The f-fire... makes me... hah... hot... so hot... nnnghh..."

I whispered against her ear: "That’s right, slut... tell her how hot your bare cunt is... how it’s dripping for my cock... clenching like a vice while I fuck you deep... you’re gonna cum soon, aren’t you? Squirt all over my dick right in front of her... let her see you shatter..."

Angela’s pussy clamped down like a trap—walls rippling, milking me desperately as her body shook. "Mira... you... you look... w-worried... I’m... I’m f-fine... really... just... ahh... need to... to rest... mmmph..."

The last word dissolved into a choked moan—high and needy—her teeth sinking into her arm again to stifle it. Her hips rocked back—meeting my brutal thrusts—cunt gushing with each slam, the wet squish growing louder.

Mira’s breath hitched—eyes locked on Angela’s twitching hips, on the way her body jerked with each hidden movement. "It’s... it’s like you’re shaking... are you cold? Or... something else?"

Angela laughed—a broken, breathless sound that cracked into a muffled cry—"Mmmphhh... f-fuck..."—as I slammed in deep, cockhead bruising her cervix. "N-no... not c-cold... husband’s... keeping me... w-warm... so warm... hah... inside... nnnghh... feels... so g-good..."

I whispered more vulgarity, thrusting faster now—short, savage pumps that made her bare walls flutter and squeeze: "You love getting fucked like this, don’t you, my bare-cunted whore?"

"Pussy stretched wide around my dick while Mira stares... she’s getting wet watching you... rubbing her thighs together like she wants to be next... clench harder... make that cunt squirt for me... I’m gonna fill you with cum while she watches you cum silently..."

Angela’s body convulsed—pussy spasming wildly, clit grinding against the denim in electric torment—a tiny, muffled scream escaping her bitten arm: "Mmmphhh... aaaah... deeper... f-fuck..."

Mira leaned forward slightly—voice soft, uncertain: "Angela... your voice... it sounds like you’re... moaning. Are you sure you’re okay?"

Angela’s eyes squeezed shut—nails raking my hip as I ground deep, cock pulsing inside her rippling cunt. "I-I’m... not... moaning... just... nnh... yawning... tired... so tired... hah... but... but it feels... good... so good... mmmph..."

The words shattered into another muffled moan—her body arching, pussy clenching like a fist around me as a small squirt gushed out, soaking the grass.

Mira’s thighs rubbed harder together—fingers twisting in the grass, breath ragged.

She knew.

I gripped Angela’s hips harder—fingers digging into soft flesh through the torn denim—and started ramming into her with brutal, punishing force.

Each thrust slammed balls-deep, cockhead battering her cervix, stirring the hot, slick mess inside her bare cunt.

The wet phht-phht-phht of skin slapping skin echoed louder than the dying fire—obscene, rhythmic, unmistakable.

Her pussy lips sucked greedily at my cock with every withdrawal, only to be stretched wide again on the plunge, juices squirting out in short, messy bursts that soaked my balls and splattered the grass beneath us.

Angela couldn’t hold it anymore.

The first real moan tore free—high, broken, raw—"Aaaah... f-fuck... Dexter...!"

Her voice cracked across the fire—loud enough that the night itself seemed to pause. Her bare pussy clamped down like a vice—walls spasming violently, fluttering along my length as I hammered deeper, faster.

The torn denim rubbed her swollen clit raw with every brutal thrust, sending electric shocks through her body. She tried to bite her arm again, but it was useless—another moan ripped out—"Nnghh... yes... harder... oh god...!"

Mira’s eyes snapped wide.

No matter how innocent or dumb she pretended to be, she knew exactly what was happening.

The wet slapping sounds, Angela’s choked cries, the way her hips jerked back to meet each savage thrust, the dark stain on her jeans spreading wider with every gush of cunt-juice—it was impossible to miss.

Mira’s face burned crimson—cheeks flaming in the firelight, pupils blown, lips parted on a silent gasp. Her thighs clenched so tight her knees knocked together; a tiny, involuntary whimper slipped from her throat before she could stop it.

She turned away quickly—rolling onto her other side to face Lisa, pretending to close her eyes and sleep.

But the blush crept down her neck, her breathing came in shallow, ragged pants, and her fingers twisted hard in the grass.

Lisa—already facing her—opened one eye, saw Mira’s scarlet face, the frantic thigh-rubbing, the way Mira’s hips twitched subtly even while "asleep." A slow, knowing smile curved Lisa’s lips. She didn’t speak—just watched Mira squirm, blush deepening until it reached her ears.

Mira squeezed her eyes shut tighter, but it was useless. Every phht-phht-phht of my cock slamming into Angela’s dripping cunt carried across the fire.

Every muffled-then-unmuffled moan from Angela echoed in the quiet night. Mira’s thighs rubbed harder—desperate little circles, seeking friction she wouldn’t admit to needing.

I didn’t slow down.

I leaned over Angela’s back, lips at her ear, growling low and filthy as I rammed harder—cock pistoning in and out of her spasming hole.

"That’s it, you filthy whore... scream for me... let Mira hear how my cock ruins your bare cunt... feel it stretching you wide, pounding your cervix... you’re gonna squirt all over my dick while she listens... clench that sloppy pussy... milk me dry..."

Angela’s control was shattered completely.

"Aaaah... Dexter... fuck... yes... deeper... I’m cumming... I’m cumming on your cock...!"

Her pussy clamped down like a fist—walls rippling, fluttering, spasming wildly around my cock. A hot gush of squirt sprayed out around my base—clear, forceful jets soaking my balls, the torn denim, the grass—splashing audibly with each brutal thrust. Her clit throbbed against the rough seam, swollen and oversensitive, each grind pushing her higher.