Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 426: Jealous Wife: Mira Beat Me to Anal

Completely yielding at last, Mira's sweat-soaked, limp form slumped fully over me—her plump, rising breasts squished tight against my torso, those stiff-as-diamonds nipples still rasping across my flesh with each feeble, uneven inhale she forced.

Both her wrecked openings—cunt and rear entrance—quivered and clenched around the lingering girth of my shaft, partially sheathed still in her convulsing pussy after I'd turned her over, refusing to withdraw even a fraction from that ravenous heat.

Creamy, viscous strands of my seed oozed lazily from her two holes in vulgar trickles, sliding along her thighs' insides and gathering in warm, tacky puddles on my sack, blending with the dregs of her gushing releases until our joined area became a slippery, nasty chaos.

She'd passed out intensely—eyes flipped up to show only whites, lips loose with a slender saliva string dripping onto my shoulder blade, her entire body jerking in small, unaware tremors as if pursuing the savage climaxes I'd wrenched from her depths.

Damn, she appeared ideal in this state: totally shattered, possessed, dripping my essence from every invaded spot, an ideal semen-drenched plaything for our expanding collection.

Beside us on the bedding, Angela crouched with legs parted broadly, as if compelled to exhibit her leaking pussy, her digits lazily stroking her engorged nub through the thin layer of her killer outfit.

Yet her gaze—shadowy, ravenous, tinged with that owning blaze—fixed on Mira's devastated shape: how her anus remained slightly agape right then, rosy and swollen, expelling tiny bubbles of my dense cum with each reflexive squeeze.

How her labia dangled inflated and crimson, continuing to flutter as though pleading for additional shaft despite the torment.

Angela's breaths arrived in brief, envious puffs, her own peaks poking through her attire like projectiles, a clear damp patch spreading between her limbs from the arousal the view ignited in her.

"Husband..." she murmured, her tone fracturing with that ideal mix of sulky fragility and intense, yearning desire, her bottom lip quivering as she inched nearer, one palm extending to drag a finger through the milky spill emerging from Mira’s rear.

"I’m so fucking jealous... Didn’t you want to take virgin asshole first? You promised me—whispered it in my ear night after night while you railed my sloppy cunt raw, your breath hot on my neck, telling me how you’d spread my cheeks and shove that monster cock deep into my tight little backdoor until I screamed and squirted like a filthy whore..."

"How you’d make it yours, stretch it until it gaped for days, leaking your cum every time I sat down. But Mira... she beat me to it. She stole your first anal claim. I feel... sad. So empty back there, aching for you to bully it open as you did hers."

Her statements lingered thick in the moist cavern atmosphere, infused with that real ache under the provocation—her eyes gleaming with unspilled tears of irritation, yet her pussy revealing her fully, contracting noticeably and leaking new wetness along her thighs at the simple idea of it.

Hell, my dick pulsed fiercer within Mira’s insensate warmth, expanding against her rippling insides solely from Angela’s desperate plea.

I laughed deeply and sinisterly, the vibration rolling through my torso like a storm, and extended my available arm—the one not holding Mira’s slack body in place.

I gripped the end of Angela’s perky, pointed nose with thumb and index finger, pulling it teasingly yet solidly enough to wrinkle her features in that charming, shamed manner, her face reddening deeply as a gentle, mewling sigh slipped from her open mouth.

"Don’t be sad, my greedy little cumslut," I whispered, my voice falling to that rough tone she invariably dissolved into, threaded with dirty vow as I tightened the grip just slightly more, causing her eyes to moisten and her legs to press together urgently.

"Your tight virgin asshole’s been mine from the start—saved it like a prize, waiting for the perfect moment to rip it open and make you my anal bitch."

"Mira was just... practice. A sloppy, hairy-cunted appetizer. But you? You’re the main course. I’m gonna devour that puckered little rosebud until you’re begging me to stop and sobbing for more, squirting so hard you flood the whole fucking cave."

Angela’s respiration caught abruptly and eagerly, her irises widening to dark voids, a new surge of wetness audibly dripping from her outfit’s damaged groin. "R-Really, husband...? You promise...?"

I let go of her nose with a quiet snap, gliding my palm downward to cradle her heated face—thumb dragging a line of Mira’s escaped cum over her flesh like battle markings—then pulled her abruptly into a fierce embrace.

My rod—still rigid as stone, ridges prominent, coated in Mira’s juices and my own flaking semen—twitched demandingly against her smooth belly via the material, the swollen tip seeping a new drop of pre that absorbed into her suit like a mark.

She moaned into my throat, instinctively rubbing her pelvis ahead, attempting to wedge my length between our bodies, her breasts surging against my chest as she held on like a savior.

"Promise," I snarled into her ear, biting the edge sharply enough to elicit a cry. "Now let’s get our fainted slut settled... then I’m gonna bully that jealous little body of yours until you forget what jealousy even feels like."

I maneuvered Mira’s inert mass gently—drawing my cock out from her gripping pussy with a moist pop that unleashed another torrent of semen, splashing steaming onto my leg and the bedding.

She uttered something garbled in her blackout, form jerking like a malfunctioning doll, but I positioned her on her side regardless—sliding a folded sleeping roll beneath her head as cushion, one hand pausing to grip her branded buttock dominantly, observing further of my deposit bubble out from her stretched anus in foamy, lewd bursts. "Sleep tight, baby girl... You earned it after taking that ass-pounding like a champ."

Then I faced Angela again—seizing her by the neck in a relaxed yet commanding grasp and forcing her onto the mat next to Mira.

My digits caught the tall neckline of her assassin suit—that form-fitting, glossy dark garment that had been taunting me throughout the damn evening, hugging each contour like second skin—and I wrenched it apart.

The material yielded with a brutal—ripping right along the front in uneven, frayed shreds that bared her flawless, swelling breasts immediately: lush, fair orbs springing loose, tips shadowy and tightened like candy drops yearning for mistreatment.

I kept going—tugging fiercer, ripping the cloth across her smooth abdomen, toward her pubic area—until the groin tore as well, the stitches bursting with damp cracks as her bare pussy emerged: folds inflated and shining, button pulsing clearly, a heavy thread of her excitement linking her opening to the destroyed cloth like a lewd summons.

"Husband—! Don’t tear them...!" Angela gasped, her voice blending petulant objection and lustful moan, her hands waving ineffectively along the shredded borders, face aflame as chilly cavern breeze struck her bared body.

"I really liked this suit... it made me feel so sexy... like your perfect little assassin slut..."