Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Ruth shook her head and bit her lips, and she gasped and moved on the rock beneath her. "It is not really hurting... much," she said, with a tightness to her voice, more than pain.

"But it... feels burning. And hot inside..." Her hands were trying to adapt to the coarse, roughness of the bed of stone, and her thighs jerked; the weird, hurting heat in her legs was tormenting her.

I didn't hesitate. Her clit was discovered by my fingers in slow, deliberate circles.

"Aaah..." Ruth gave an involuntary shudder, her body twitching, the breath in her throat catching with a painful mixture of pleasure and pain. She fluttered her eyes closed, and her lips parted, and she gave in to the experience, and I felt her body slightly arch against my touch.

"Hmmm... Dexter.. ahh..." she said, not in protest, but in acquiescence.

Then the voice of Kerry broke in on the summer morning.

"Dexter..."

I looked back, without moving up, but not back, my hand. We had Kerry, Hina, and Ada just behind us, and their looks were placid and their presence undressed.

The voice of Kerry was approving, practically appreciative. "Dexter, are you helping Ruth clean?" she questioned, with her own calmness, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "Dexter.. You are quite a doting man. "

There was no embarrassment and shame in her voice.

Just the mere fact that a man is taking care of his woman. Ruth neither flinched nor moved away. Instead, she stood still, with her body, her entire confidence in me.

I reverted to the women, looking around at them with my eyes as they subsided on their haunches on the edge of the water. They did not even bother to keep their actions secret.

Kerry, Hina, and Ada stripped naked without even a second thought. Their bodies, uninhibited and naked, moved with the grace and ease of a woman who had never had to support the weight of a sense of decency.

Their fingers were immersed in the stream by the practised habit of cleaning themselves, and they sat down on the bank of the water to have the residue of their morning shit washed out of them as though it were another daily routine. They led a bare and straightforward life; no shame, no indecision.

My eyes went to Hina, whose body was shown to me for the first time. She wore those long skirts of animal skin too many times in order to conceal the contours of her hips, but she had nothing left to cover. Her hips were large, like those of Ada; sturdy and thick, and intended to support and carry.

Her pussy lips were enormous, their weight being supported by a dense mat of dark pubic hair, and could be felt even at my distance.

Her left breast had a small mole resting just above the curvature; another added a touch of her already amazing form, uniqueness. But as I watched them clean themselves—fingers moving without embarrassment, water running from their skin—I came to something. I still lacked the points Ruth's ass had earned.

I appealed to Ruth, and my voice dropped to an authoritative yet soft tone. "Ruth... "I said, and my hand fell to seize her hip, and my thumb touched the turn of the buttocks.

''Is your asshole clean?" She had a voice that had a touch of the darkness; the words were well considered and had the effect of causing her to tremble.

Ruth pulled herself in a bit, and as she did it, her black eyes took a staring fixation on me. "Why?" said she, very sweet voice, but with bewilderment in it. "It's... It's dirty, Dexter. You don't need to—"

Kina, who had been watching us with some mixture of amusement and exasperation, gave a sharp and incredulous laugh. "Yes, Dexter," she said, and crossed her arms.

"Why the hell must you want to see that? It's dirty and disgusting." She shook her head and twisted her face in a grimace. "What's wrong with you? That is not something to look at!"

As Hina bathed herself, with washing, she glanced about and lifted up her brows in wonder at us. "Yes, she is right," said she, and bewilderment was in her voice. "No one wants to see that. It's just... there."

Sighing, Ada, the voice of reason, never failed to show some form of amusement in her voice. " Dexter must have a reason," she said in her placid voice. I can do without imagining what they are.

I turned my back on them all and continued to dwell on Ruth. I tightened my hold on her hip a little, my voice lowered to a whisper, which could be heard only by her.

"Because you are mine," I said, and there was no mistaking my meaning. "And that means every part of you is mine to take care of." My thumb traced the curve of her ass, my voice darkening with possessive intent. "Even the parts you think are dirty."

Ruth drew a shaky breath, and her body was trembling under my hands. Nobody had ever talked to her in this manner, with such an unfeeling statement, such adoration. Her fingers clutched my flesh and her dark eyes opened to shock and something more, to a kind of awe.

With a low exasperated sound, Kina shook her head. "You are both are so strange," she was thinking, but there was nothing obstructive in her tone. Just resignation.

"And had Tusk ever talked that kind of thing to me, I would have--" she stopped herself and gave a glance of something that I could have called envy, and so she shook her head and spoke under her breath.

But Ruth didn't pull away. She instead turned a bit, and her body gave way to my hand as I led her. She pressed her hands in her knees, and her breaths were quick, harsh gasps as she realized that my hands touched her hips, and she was turned, in the position that I desired.

"Spread your legs," I grumbled to myself, scratching with the roughness of my voice.

She obeyed without hesitation, her thighs parting just enough to give me access. My hands moved to her ass, my fingers spreading her cheeks wide, exposing her tight, untouched asshole to the morning air. Ruth let out a soft, needy whimper, her body tensing for just a second before she forced herself to relax.

"Aaah.. Dexter..." she breathed, her voice trembling.

"Shhh," I murmured, my thumb brushing lightly over the sensitive flesh. "Just let me take care of you."

The moment my fingers made contact, the notification flashed in my vision—1000 points.

Ruth's breath hitched, her body arching slightly into my touch. There was no shame in her reaction, no resistance. Just trust. Just surrender.

And behind us, the women fell silent, their earlier protests dying on their lips as they watched. Because in this moment, it didn't matter what they thought.

Ruth was mine.

And I was going to make sure she knew it.