Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Chapter 688: Madeline Can’t Hold It

Madeline’s hand flew back, fingers splaying over her asshole like a shield, her nails digging into the soft flesh as if she could physically block me. "Don’t... I really can’t take it there... not with your big cock right there... please, it’s too much..." Her voice was a breathless, trembling mess, but beneath the fear, that same filthy hunger still pulsed in her words, thick and unmistakable.

I let go of her pussy—and the dam broke.

A sharp, broken gasp tore from her throat as her bladder betrayed her, the pressure inside her swelling to an unbearable peak. Her thighs clenched, her hips jerking forward as if she could somehow stop it, but it was too late.

The first hot, desperate spurt burst out of her in a shameful gush, the sound of it splattering against the shower tiles loud and obscene.

The water from the showerhead mixed with the stream, but there was no hiding it—no mistaking the way her body shuddered, the way her breath hitched in her chest as the relief and humiliation crashed over her in equal measure.

"Oh—oh fuck—" Her voice cracked, her free hand flying to her mouth as if she could stuff the sounds back inside, but it was useless.

Another hard spurt escaped her, this one longer, messier, the hot liquid dripping down her thighs, pooling between her legs. Her fingers, still pressed against her asshole, trembled as she fought the urge to arch into me, her body torn between the shame of what she was doing and the filthy, aching need that still coiled tight in her core.

Her moan was a broken, needy thing, half-sob, half-whimper, as the last of it gushed out of her in a final, shuddering rush.

The sound of it was wet, obscene, the kind of noise that should have made her blush burn hotter—but instead, it only made her pussy clench, empty and yet still so fucking hungry.

She could feel the warmth of it trickling down her skin, could smell the musky, salty scent of her own release mixing with the steam, and it only made her wetter, her clit throbbing in time with the shameful pulses of her body.

"Fuck... fuck, I’m so sorry..." she whimpered, but her voice was thick, her words slurred with lust. Her hips rolled back against me instinctively, her ass pressing against my cock even as she tried to pull away, her body betraying her just as much as her bladder had.

The heat of her pee was still dripping down her legs, but her pussy was flooded, her folds slick and swollen, her clit so hard it ached.

She could feel my cock, still rock-hard, still leaking, the head pressing against her asshole as if it belonged there, and the thought alone made her tremble.

"I couldn’t... I couldn’t hold it..." she gasped, her voice raw, her fingers finally slipping away from her asshole as the last of the pressure faded.

She was still panting, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and slick with water and something far filthier.

The scent of her release lingered in the steam, thick and musky, clinging to the air between us. Her eyes darted up to meet mine, dark with embarrassment, but beneath it, something even darker burned—something that made her bite her lower lip as she felt my cock twitch against her, as if it already knew the filthy thoughts swirling in her mind.

I exhaled slowly, my voice low and rough with restraint. "It’s okay... my Madam Madeline." The words were a caress, a promise, but also a dismissal. "I’ve already washed myself. I’ll go and change my clothes... and meet you later. Okay?"

Madeline’s lips parted, her breath still uneven, but she nodded, her cheeks burning crimson.

The shame in her gaze was undeniable, but so was the flicker of longing—like she wanted to reach for me, to pull me back, to beg me to finish what we’d started. But she didn’t. She just stood there, trembling, as I reached for the white towel robe and wrapped it around myself.

I stepped out of the bathroom, the cool air hitting my skin as I gathered my clothes from the floor.

The fabric was damp from the steam, but I didn’t care. I dressed quickly, my body still thrumming with the memory of her—her heat, her sounds, the way she’d come undone under my hands.

I went out to my room, and as soon as I opened the door, I was met with Marina’s red-rimmed eyes, her face pale with worry. She didn’t hesitate.

She rushed to me, her arms locking around my waist as she pressed herself against me, her voice muffled against my chest. "I was so scared... afraid something happened to you... I thought I would lose you..."

I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight, my chin resting on the top of her head. The scent of her hair—soft, floral—was a stark contrast to the musk still clinging to my skin. "Don’t worry, I’m fine," I murmured, my voice steady, soothing.

But Marina wasn’t done. She pulled back just enough to look up at me, her fingers digging into my arms as her eyes burned with a mix of fury and something far more calculating. "That bitch... Madeline..." Her voice was a blade, honed by resentment.

"Even after you saved her life... she’s still being a tyrant. Even knowing you must be hurt, or tired, or in need of rest... or care... she still asked you to keep watch on her. That bitch..."

I exhaled, running a hand through my damp hair. "Ma’am... Madam Madeline didn’t actually ask me to watch and protect her all night." The words were careful, measured. "She asked me to rest there... in her room."

Marina froze, her grip loosening slightly as her eyebrows shot up. "What...?" Her voice was laced with disbelief, her lips curling into a sneer. "That bitch... from when did she become so generous?"

Then, her expression shifted—her eyes narrowing, a slow, sly smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. She tilted her head, studying me like a predator sizing up its prey. "She didn’t actually fall in love with you... Did she?"