Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Chapter 412: Two Huge Beds, One Giant Fuck Platform Waiting

Lisa laughed, following suit—less graceful, more enthusiastic—stripping down to nothing before shimmying into the bodysuit. The material clung like a second skin, outlining every curve: her perky tits straining the front zipper, ass perfectly cupped, thighs looking strong and lethal.

Mira hesitated longest. She glanced around the cave—shadows deep enough for privacy in the side alcoves—then back at me. "I... I’ll change over there," she said quietly, pointing to a darker corner. Her voice shook just slightly. "Don’t... don’t look, okay?"

Angela chuckled low. "Sure, sweetie. We’ll be very good." Then, under her breath to me: "Ten seconds before she realizes how tight this thing is gonna feel on her wet little pussy."

Mira disappeared behind a natural stone partition, footsteps soft on the damp floor.

Angela zipped up her own suit slowly—deliberately—letting the deep V stay half-open, cleavage spilling out invitingly. She turned to me, hips cocked. "How do I look, husband? Ready to assassinate... or seduce?"

I stepped close, sliding a hand down her side, feeling the slick material warm under my palm. "Both. And dangerous."

Lisa struck a dramatic pose—fists on hips, chest thrust forward. "I feel like I could kick ass. Best outfit ever."

From behind the partition came a soft rustle—fabric sliding over skin—then a tiny, surprised gasp.

Mira’s voice floated out, small and flustered: "It’s... so tight. Everywhere. I didn’t expect... oh god, the zipper’s right between my... um..."

Angela bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Breathe, Mira. Just zip it slowly. Let it hug you."

Another pause. Then a shaky exhale. "It feels... weird. Good weird. Like... armor. But also... exposed."

She stepped out a moment later.

The bodysuit clung to her like liquid night. Every curve was accentuated: full breasts straining the front zipper (which she’d pulled up only halfway, cleavage deep and flushed), narrow waist cinched, hips flaring into thick thighs that looked powerful and soft at once.

The material gleamed faintly in the low light, outlining the subtle camel toe between her legs—her arousal from earlier still lingering, probably soaking through already. The boots made her legs look endless, dangerous.

Mira crossed her arms self-consciously over her chest, trying to shield the deep V of the zipper she’d only pulled halfway up.

The black material hugged her like it had been poured on—every curve accentuated, every breath making her breasts rise and fall visibly against the tight fabric. Her cheeks burned a deep crimson that spread down her neck and disappeared into her cleavage.

"I... I look ridiculous, don’t I?" she whispered, voice small and uncertain. "It’s so... tight. And revealing. I feel like I’m wearing nothing at all."

Angela stepped closer immediately, circling her slowly like she was appraising fine art. She reached out, gently but firmly pulling Mira’s arms down so she couldn’t hide anymore.

"No, sweetie," Angela purred, voice low and warm. "You look really beautiful in this. Lethal. Sexy. Like you could walk into any room and every eye would follow you—then every throat would be at your mercy."

My cock was already thickening in my pants, straining hard against the zipper as I took in the sight of the three of them standing there in those identical black assassin bodysuits.

Angela—confident, teasing, zipper pulled low enough that the inner swells of her heavy tits threatened to spill out with every breath, the material so tight it outlined her stiff nipples like they were begging for a mouth.

Lisa—perky and playful, hips cocked, the leggings hugging the firm curve of her ass and the subtle mound between her thighs, looking like she could drop to her knees and suck me off without a second thought.

And Mira—flushed, uncertain, arms still half-crossed like she wanted to hide, but the suit betrayed her: full breasts straining the leather, deep cleavage flushed pink, the crotch seam pressing right against her swollen lips so that even from here I could see the faint outline of her camel toe, already darkening with fresh arousal.

Three lethal, dripping women dressed like they were made to be fucked and fought over. The urge hit me like a freight train—bend them over the nearest rock ledge, rip those zippers down, and ravage them one after another until the cave echoed with their screams and the wet slap of skin on skin. Fill every hole until they were leaking me, marked, claimed.

I forced a deep breath through my nose, clenching my jaw, willing my cock to calm the fuck down. Not yet. Not all at once. The points would be sweeter if I drew them out. If I let Mira break herself on the edge a little longer.

I turned away, looking out toward the cave mouth. The sunlight had already slanted low, golden fading to orange, shadows stretching long across the forest floor outside. Night was coming fast.

Angela noticed my tension immediately. She sauntered over, hips rolling in that new suit like liquid sin, and pressed herself against my side—tits soft against my arm, one hand sliding down to rest just above my belt buckle, fingers brushing the bulge there teasingly.

"Husband..." she purred, voice low and suggestive, "can we get something like a bed in here? These stone floors are murder on my back... and other places." She rubbed her thigh against mine deliberately, letting me feel the heat radiating from between her legs.

Lisa perked up instantly. "Ooh, yes! Beds! Big ones! I’m not sleeping on rocks again."

Mira stayed quiet, but her eyes flicked to the darkening entrance, then back to me—nervous, hopeful, already imagining what might happen once the light was gone.

I nodded, exhaling slowly to keep my voice steady. "Done."

With a quick mental command, I opened System Storage and pulled two massive double beds straight from the SUPER-MARKET STORE—king-size frames, thick memory-foam mattresses, crisp black sheets that matched the vibe of their new outfits, and pillows plump and inviting.

They materialized in the center of the main chamber with a soft whoosh of displaced air, perfectly aligned side by side to form one giant sleeping platform.

Angela let out a delighted squeal and immediately flopped backward onto the nearest one, arms spread wide, tits jiggling under the tight leather.

"Fuck yes. This is heaven." She rolled onto her stomach, ass up, looking back at me over her shoulder with a wicked grin. "Husband... come test how bouncy it is."

Lisa dove onto the other bed, sprawling out like a starfish. "Oh my god, it’s so soft! I could sleep for a week... or not sleep at all." She waggled her eyebrows at me. "Your call, boss."

Mira approached more slowly—almost reverently—running her fingers over the sheets. She sat on the edge, testing the give of the mattress, then looked up at me with those wide, glassy eyes.

"It’s... perfect," she whispered. "Everything you do is perfect." Her voice cracked just a little on the last word. She bit her lip, thighs pressing together again—subtle, but I caught the tiny squirm.

Angela propped herself up on her elbows, cleavage spilling forward. "See, Mira? Told you. He takes care of us. Beds, food, outfits..." She licked her lips slowly. "Whatever we need. Whenever we need it."

While Mira was busy chatting with Lisa—giggling nervously about how the bodysuit made her feel like a "secret agent in a bad spy movie," Lisa teasing her right back with "Girl, you look like the villain who wins by seducing everyone"—I pulled Angela aside into one of the darker alcoves near the stream. The faint trickle of water covered our low voices perfectly.