Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Chapter 450: Camilla’s Squirting Cuckold Show

I reached my hands down between Camilla’s spread thighs, fingers finding her swollen, throbbing clit instantly. It was fat, slick, and pulsing like a little heartbeat under my touch.

I rubbed it in slow, firm circles at first—teasing the sensitive nub with the pads of my fingers—then pressed harder, rolling it relentlessly while my palm ground against her dripping pussy lips.

"Hmm... aah... hmm..." Camilla moaned—low and filthy at first, then louder, more desperate. Her massive Mexican tits bounced heavily with every twitch of her hips, dark nipples scraping my forearms. "Master... fuck... my clit... it’s too sensitive... aaah... please... slower... I’m gonna... I’m gonna lose it..."

She tried so hard to hold back—thighs shaking violently, pussy clenching around nothing, teeth sinking into her lower lip until it turned white.

Her fat ass clenched against my lap, cheeks quivering as she fought the building pressure, but her body betrayed her completely. Fresh slick poured out of her cunt in thick, shiny strands, coating my fingers and dripping down onto my balls.

With a swift motion, I stood up, lifting her effortlessly—her thick thighs still straddling my hips, legs forced wide open by my strong grip under her ass. My cock—thick, veined, rock-hard—slid right along her dripping slit, the fat head bumping and grinding against her swollen clit on every shallow rock of my hips.

I held her tight around the stomach—one arm banded like iron across her soft belly—moving my hips in slow, deliberate rolls, letting my entire cock glide up and down her open pussy lips, spreading them obscenely wide, coating every inch of me in her hot, sticky juices.

Camilla’s head fell back against my shoulder—moaning louder now, voice cracking into slutty, horny whimpers. "Aah... Master... your cock... it’s rubbing my clit so hard... fuck... I can feel every vein... aaaah... don’t... I’m trying not to... I’m trying not to cum yet..."

I carried her closer to Drake—step by step—until we were right in front of him, her dripping cunt hovering inches from his tear-streaked, blood-smeared face.

"Drake," I said calmly, voice low and mocking, "take a closer look. Look how eager your wife is. Look how her fat Mexican pussy is drooling all over my cock like a desperate whore. She’s saying ’no,’ but her cunt is begging to be filled. See how her clit throbs every time I rub it? She’s never gotten this wet for you, has she?"

Drake’s eyes snapped open—wild, furious, humiliated.

"You bitch..." he rasped, voice cracking with rage and despair. "You fucking slut... moaning like that... dripping like a whore... while I bleed..."

Camilla’s head jerked up—anger flashing through the shame.

"Why are you yelling...?" she snapped back, voice shaking but sharp, even as her hips rocked helplessly against my cock.

"It’s obviously your idea to steal supplies from Dexter... to send me in here to spy... to betray him... and now I’m doing everything—everything—to save your worthless life... and you’re still blaming me?"

"You threatened to rape his women! You got your hands cut off because of your greed! Don’t you dare call me a bitch when you’re the one who put us here!"

I pushed forward—just the tip—breaching Camilla’s tight, dripping entrance.

Her pussy swallowed the head with a wet, sucking sound—walls fluttering desperately around me.

"Aah... fuck..." Camilla moaned—long, broken, head falling back against my shoulder as her hips tried to sink down for more. "It’s... it’s stretching me... so thick... aaaah... Master... just the tip and I’m already losing my mind..."

I slid out slowly—deliberate—leaving her empty again, her cunt clenching greedily on nothing.

Camilla whined—loss and need twisting her voice—"No... please... put it back... Master... I need it inside... don’t tease me like this... aaaah..."

Her pussy clenched hard—then spasmed violently. She tried so hard to hold it back—thighs shaking, teeth gritted, one hand flying down to cover her clit—but it was useless. Her body betrayed her completely.

A powerful, hot jet of squirt exploded from her cunt—splashing straight across Drake’s face in thick, messy arcs.

The clear, sticky fluid drenched him—flooding his open mouth, running down his cheeks, dripping off his chin onto his chest. He choked—gagging on his wife’s squirt—eyes wide in shock and humiliation.

"You... you fucking slut—!" he tried to yell, but another violent squirt hit him mid-sentence, filling his mouth again.

Drake’s body convulsed—rage, shame, and helpless arousal crashing together—then his eyes rolled back, and he fainted, head lolling sideways, face completely soaked in Camilla’s cum, strands of her squirt still dripping from his lips.

Camilla sobbed—half mortified, half still riding the aftershocks—body shaking violently in my arms, her massive tits heaving as she gasped for air.

I chuckled darkly—kissing the side of her neck while I rubbed my cockhead against her still-twitching clit.

"Look at that," I murmured in her ear—loud enough for the others to hear. "Your husband just passed out with your squirt in his mouth. He’s such a pathetic cuck... getting hard while you cum all over his face for another man."

Camilla whimpered—tears falling faster—but her hips never stopped moving, chasing my cock again.

"Please... Master... I need it... I need you inside me..."

The cave was silent except for the wet, obscene sounds of Camilla’s dripping pussy still clenching around nothing and Drake’s faint, unconscious breathing—ragged, wet, barely there.

I chuckled low in my throat—dark, satisfied—as the system notification flashed across my vision in glowing blue text:

[Making Camilla squirt over her husband’s pathetic face -100,000 Pervert Points]

The total balance ticked up in the corner of my Pervert Points: 987,432 Pervert Points. All those filthy nights in the cave had added up fast—stretching Mira’s virgin asshole until she screamed my name, pounding Angela’s tight cunt while she begged for more, then the delicious game of pretending not to recognize Mira at first, taking her for Angela.

Every tear, every moan, every time one of them squirted or gagged or called me Master—it all stacked. And now this new opportunity was dangling right in front of me.

I lifted Camilla off my lap—her thick thighs trembling, massive Mexican tits still heaving, dark nipples stiff and glistening with sweat—and set her gently on the edge of the bed. Her red dress was a ruined mess—bunched around her waist, soaked with blood and her own squirt, clinging to her curves like a second skin.

She looked up at me—eyes glassy, lips swollen, tears still clinging to her lashes—half expecting me to push her down and finish what I’d started.