Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Chapter 413: Angela’s Plan : Switch Places

I leaned in close, lips brushing her ear. "Listen... I’ve got the plan for Mira. I’m going to fuck her tonight. Hard. Deep. Make her come so many times she forgets her own name."

"But I’ll pretend the whole time it’s you—whispering your name, calling her ’Angela,’ acting as if I mistook her in the dark. She’ll know I’m lying... but she’ll let it happen. She’s too far gone to stop it now."

Angela rolled her eyes dramatically, but the corners of her mouth curled into a wicked, approving smirk. "Husband... you are too bad."

She dragged her nails lightly down my chest, right over the zipper of my pants, where my cock was still half-hard from earlier. "But I like it. A lot. Watching her break while she pretends she’s innocent? Delicious."

Angela’s eyes gleamed with pure, wicked delight as she pressed even closer, her leather-clad tits squishing against my chest, nipples hard enough to poke through the material and drag across my shirt. Her hand stayed shamelessly on my cock—squeezing, stroking the outline through my pants like she was measuring how thick I’d be when I finally buried it in Mira.

"Husband..." she purred, voice dropping so low it was almost a growl, "let me make this even filthier for you. Let me paint the whole scene so you’re rock-hard and leaking pre-cum by the time you crawl into that bed."

She licked her lips slowly, tongue tracing the seam like she was already tasting the depravity.

"First, you go out. Make it obvious. Stretch those big arms, yawn loud enough for everyone to hear, then say something casual like, ’Gotta take a piss. Be right back, ladies.’ Walk out slow, let Mira watch your ass flex in those pants. Let her imagination run wild, thinking about what’s swinging between your legs."

Angela’s fingers tightened around my shaft, giving a slow, deliberate pump.

"When you’re gone, I’ll slide over to her. Whisper sweet, innocent bullshit: ’Mira, scoot over here—the wall’s cooler, my back’s killing me.’ She’ll hesitate—she always does—but she’ll move.

She’ll crawl into my

spot on the bed, still warm from my body, still smelling like my pussy and your cum from earlier. The sheets will be damp where I was grinding on them, thinking about tonight. She’ll feel it against her thighs and her cunt will clench without her even realizing why."

She leaned in, lips brushing my jaw as she continued, voice thick with lust.

"Then you come back. The cave’s pitch black—only moonlight spilling in from the entrance, just enough to see shapes, not faces. You’ll pretend you’re half-asleep, stumbling a little. Crawl onto the bed right behind her."

"Press your hard cock against her ass through the leather—she’ll freeze, breath hitching, but she won’t move away. She’ll arch—just a tiny bit—because her body already knows what it wants even if her mind is screaming ’no’."

Angela’s other hand slid down to cup my balls, rolling them gently while she spoke.

"Grab her hips. Rough. Yank that zipper down in one hard pull—expose her tits first so they spill out heavy and flushed, nipples aching."

"Then keep going—peel the suit open over her ass, shove it down just enough to bare her dripping cunt and that tight little virgin asshole you teased last night. She’ll whimper—soft, pathetic—but she won’t stop you. That’s when you do it."

Her voice turned darker, filthier, almost reverent.

"Reach between her thighs, hook your fingers in the crotch of her soaked panties—feel how drenched they are, how the fabric clings to her swollen lips like glue. Yank them down her thighs, ball them up while they’re still hot and sticky with her juices."

"Then—before she can gasp your name—shove them straight into her mouth. Deep. Make her taste herself—salty, musky, desperate—while she gags around the wet cotton. Her eyes will water, cheeks hollowing as she sucks on her own filthy panties like a gag made just for her."

Angela ground her hips against my thigh once—hard—letting me feel how slick the crotch of her own suit had become.

"Pin her wrists above her head with one hand. Spread her thighs wide with your knees. Rub your fat cockhead along her slit—let her feel how thick you are, how much she’s going to have to stretch. "

"Whisper right in her ear—low, rough, like you’re lost in lust: ’Fuck, Angela... you’re so wet tonight... been thinking about this pussy all day...’ She’ll know it’s a lie. She’ll know. But her cunt will flutter anyway—clenching, dripping, begging. And when you finally slam in—balls-deep in one brutal thrust—she’ll scream around her own panties, the sound muffled into a wet, desperate sob."

She nipped my earlobe, breath hot and ragged.

"Fuck her as you hate her. Pound that married pussy raw—make her tits bounce, make her ass jiggle under your hips, make the bed creak so loud Lisa might wake up but won’t dare interrupt. "

"Every time she tries to moan your real name, tighten your grip on her wrists and growl, ’Quiet, Angela... you’ll wake the others...’ She’ll come so hard she’ll soak your balls, thighs shaking, tears running down her cheeks while she tastes her own shame."

"And when you finally flood her—pump rope after thick rope deep inside that neglected cunt until it’s overflowing, leaking down her thighs—she’ll be ruined. "

"Completely. She’ll lie there afterward, panties still crammed in her mouth, body trembling, knowing she just let a god claim her while pretending to be someone else... and she’ll want it again tomorrow."

Angela pulled back just enough to look me in the eye—her own pupils blown, cheeks flushed, lips parted.

"Praise me, husband," she demanded softly, voice trembling with need. "Tell me how fucking brilliant I am."

I tangled my fingers in her hair, yanked her head back, and kissed her again—savage, devouring—tongue fucking her mouth while my free hand squeezed her ass hard enough to leave prints through the leather.

"You’re a genius," I growled against her lips. "A filthy, perfect, evil little genius. We do it exactly like that. Every detail. And when it’s over... I want you to crawl over, pull those soaked panties out of her mouth with your teeth, and lick her clean while she’s still shaking. Taste what I left inside her. Make her watch you swallow it."

Angela moaned—loud, shameless—grinding against me like she was about to come just from the words.

"Yes... fuck yes... I’ll eat her cum-filled cunt while you watch. Then I’ll kiss her with her own taste on my tongue... make her admit she loved every second of being your mistaken whore."

She stepped back, adjusting her zipper so more cleavage spilled out, then flashed me that same evil smile.

"Now go act normal. Let her stew. Let her pussy throb in that tight suit all evening. By the time you step outside to ’piss’... she’ll be so desperate she’ll switch places without me even needing to ask twice."

I nodded, cock throbbing painfully now, pre-cum already soaking through my boxers.

The plan was set.

The beds waited.

Night was falling.

And Mira—sweet, broken, dripping Mira—was about to become mine in the darkest, dirtiest way possible.