Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 434: Mother-Daughter Reunion

Mira's breathing caught sharply—fear and desire battling in her gaze as she raised her head slightly to peer at me.

'Please...' she murmured, barely audible over the breeze. 'Don’t... don’t let me climax now... I’ll... I’ll drench it all... they’ll notice...'

I smiled—lazily, lewdly—then tilted the jetpack into a soft descent, allowing the pull of gravity and the buzzing to take over.

'Way past that, little one.'

The engines throbbed once—more intensely—delivering a profound vibration right to her sensitive nub.

Mira's eyes fluttered shut. Her legs squeezed like iron. A shattered, shrill cry escaped her lips—swallowed by the gusts but clear as day to our trio.

She orgasmed—fiercely, abruptly—her pelvis bucking madly against mine, her core pulsing beneath the fabric, flooding my trousers with warm, surging floods. Her breasts rose and fell against my torso; tears from excess sensation dotted her eyelids.

Lisa and Angela giggled—gently, harshly, gleefully—drawing nearer, rubbing their own throbbing forms against me while we glided through the air.

We arrived at the spot where the group gathered....

I brought the jetpack down in a gentle swirl of sand and azure fumes, settling roughly fifty paces from the primary group of shelters and the dying embers of the campfire that defined the refugees' outpost. The engines faded with a faint hum, replaced by the roar of far-off surf and the abrupt, thick quiet as all eyes fixed on us.

Mira remained bound firmly to me—legs wrapped around my hips, breasts pressed to my frame, strap buckled so tightly she couldn't escape even if she tried. Yet as soon as my soles met the ground, she tensed up.

Her fresh jeans were utterly wrecked: a bold, obvious damp area extending from the center to halfway down her thighs, the material saturated with her release from that aerial peak. The cloth stuck vulgarly to her intimate contours, revealing every puffy curve, and the pungent, earthy aroma of her excitement lingered heavily in the atmosphere—utterly undeniable.

She raised her face from my shoulder, face burning scarlet, and directed at me the fiercest, most embarrassed scowl I'd witnessed from her. Her gaze shimmered with residual bliss and new shame.

'How can I face them in this state...? she whispered fiercely, tone quivering. 'It’s entirely because of you... even the odor... you... You forced such an intense orgasm that I ruined it all... they’ll catch my scent before spotting my features...'

Angela and Lisa snickered—deeply, slyly, joyfully—nestled against my sides like they commanded the scene.

Angela bent close, mouth grazing my earlobe. 'She’s leaking down her thighs, my love. See that shadowy mark... It’s gleaming under the sunlight.'

Lisa's palm glided lower to grip Mira’s rear through the sodden fabric. 'Aw, sweet spouse. Soared in perched on his shaft like a propulsion whore and now she’ll approach her kin stinking of recent seed and spray.'

Mira let out a soft whine—part objection, part involuntary excitement—her hips shifting once more against me before she halted it.

I grinned, and summoned a new set of jeans from the Supermarket Store, dark ones appearing in my grasp—identical style to the previous, fitted yet proper.

'Take these, little one,' I uttered, tone hushed and playful. 'Clean pair. Still no underwear, mind you. You understand the reason.'

Mira scanned about wildly—dunes of sand, dispersed stones, the shoreline's bend shielding us from the camp's direct view. No one near enough to observe.

I released the clasp with a quiet snap. She descended my form gradually—breasts trailing, core brushing one final lewd occasion over my hardness—until her toes touched the grains. Her knees buckled; I supported her with a palm on her side.

'Relax,' I whispered. 'No one's nearby.'

She huffed—irritated, rattled—but her hands were swiftly working the fastening of her drenched pants. She tugged them off with effort—the saturated denim adhering tenaciously to her legs like reluctant to release.

A new stream of her wetness trailed along her inner thigh as she freed herself; the fragrance intensified—dense, womanly, clearly afterglow.

No undergarments below, exactly as I'd arranged before. Her entrance remained puffed, folds shaded and shiny in the bright day, button emerging as if craving further touch.

She inhaled lightly as the fresh breeze met her exposed sex—then rushed into the new pants, wriggling them upward with small jumps that caused her chest to jiggle beneath the shirt.

The new fabric molded to her backside flawlessly—arid at last, though her gait revealed every ridge teasing her raw areas and delicate rear. She fastened the zipper, ran her palms along the surface, then leveled another look at me that leaned more sulk than fury.

'Satisfied now?' she grumbled.

I simply smiled, draping an arm over her middle and drawing her near. Angela and Lisa joined on both flanks—Angela’s light dress waving in the wind, Lisa’s short top adhering to her perspiration-slicked body.

We traversed the final distance as a unit—us four, branded, rosy, carrying a subtle whiff of primal encounters and propulsion-induced climaxes—heading to the tents and fatigued expressions.

The outpost fell utterly still the instant they spotted us.

Megan held command—positioned highest by the fire, her former sharp police attire now dulled, muddied, cuffs pushed back to bare sun-kissed arms. Weariness etched furrows near her eyes, yet her stance stayed firm, commanding.

The rest were dispersed near her: Jack (Mira’s spouse), Bill (her boy), Hailey, Nicole, Paul, and several additional holdouts—all appearing leaner, more drained than on our departure. Optimism had frayed here.

The moment our forms cast shadows on the shore, talk ceased. Gazes shifted.

Jack’s stare rose—then darted aside, teeth grinding so fiercely the tendon twitched. He fixed on the sea’s edge like it was in his debt. Bill copied—frame stooped, pivoting away, declining to face his parent or myself.

Nicole paused—gaze broad, fixed on Mira. Her bottom lip quivered; she advanced halfway, then froze, unsure if to dash to her mother or conceal.

Mira spared no look for Jack or Bill.

Her attention locked on Nicole—gentle, yearning, parental amid it all. She hobbled ahead—yet aching, yet sensitive down below—and bridged the gap without pause. Upon arriving at her child, Mira drew Nicole into a strong, shaky embrace, pressing her cheek into the youth’s locks.

'I’ve returned,' Mira breathed, sound breaking. 'I’m fine. We’re all right.'

Nicole held on—quiet initially, then a faint cry broke free. 'Mom... you’re... you’re truly back...'

Megan advanced toward me—heels grinding the beach—halting just beyond touching distance. Her sight roamed us: myself at the core, Angela and Lisa guarding like sentinels, Mira embracing Nicole paces off. She noted the heated cheeks, how Angela’s skirt sat too short, the subtle moist trace on Mira’s replacement jeans if examined closely, the clear perfume adhering to the three ladies.

I inclined my head once—serene, courteous.

'Officer Megan.'

She returned the nod—deliberate, controlled—but her eyes rested on me a moment extra.

'You’ve returned,' she stated, tone gravelly from neglect and grit.