Aunt Irene's voice was soft, laced with that damnable kindness. "Welheim, are you hungry?" Her eyes brimmed with sympathy, her expression twisting like a knife in my gut. She thought I was just some poor boy who'd lost his parents to a tiger's jaws.
If only she knew.
I hadn't just lost my parents. I'd lost everything—my world, my life, my fucking sanity—ripped away and dumped into this primitive hellscape. The Stone Age didn't give a shit about grief. It only cared about survival. About hunger.
And right now, the hunger gnawing at me wasn't for food.
I swallowed hard, my gaze flickering over her—her full lips, the swell of her breasts beneath those leaves, the way her thighs pressed together like she could hide what I knew was between them. She thought I was broken. She had no idea how right she was.
But not in the way she imagined.
Aunt Irene said, patting her head, her voice a mix of concern and kindness. "What am I even asking? You must be hungry. Come, sit here. I will get you something to eat."
She pulled me to sit on the stone bed, her body a mix of exotic beauty and savage charm. She went to the side, bending down to take something out of the leaf gathered in the corner.
As she bent down, her ass became firmer and round, a sight that was a mix of exotic beauty and savage charm. The desire to reach out and touch her, to feel the smoothness of her skin, was almost overwhelming.
My cock was throbbing hard, wanting to attack her from behind. The thought was a mix of desire and anticipation, a reminder of the needs and wants that were still very much a part of me. I suddenly thought of the main thing and realized that after meeting those women, I forgot to use my ability.
As Aunt Irene bent down to retrieve something from the corner, my gaze was drawn to her body like a moth to a flame. I couldn't help but stare at her round, firm ass cheeks, barely concealed by the flimsy leaf skirt she wore.
The sight of her bending over, her ass cheeks spreading slightly, revealing the tantalizing darkness between them, sent a jolt of desire through me. I remembered the ability I had forgotten to use, and I activated my Eyes of Perversion.
Suddenly, translucent red dots appeared on Aunt Irene's body, each with a number indicating the Pervert Points I could earn by touching that specific area.
The first thing I noticed was the dots on her ass. As she bent over, her ass cheeks spread slightly, revealing a dot right on her asshole, marked with a tantalizing 500 points.
The thought of earning so many points from such an intimate touch was intoxicating. The asscheeks themselves each had a dot, glowing with 50 points, promising the sensation of their firm roundness under my hands. I could almost feel the smoothness of her skin, the warmth of her body, and it made my cock throb with need.
As she stood up and turned to face me, more dots came into view. The dot on her lips glowed with a number: 100.
I could almost taste her—her lips parting just enough to tease me, soft and warm, like a promise I was desperate to claim. My cock throbbed, heavy with need, aching for the moment I'd finally take what I craved.
Then my gaze dropped lower—her armpits, marked with 50 points each, a trail of temptation. Unlike the silken skin of the MILFs I'd had before, hers was wild, untamed.
A thicket of dark curls, damp with the musk of her sweat, the raw, intoxicating scent of her body filling the air. It was primal. Real. And it made my cock pulse, harder than ever, imagining how she'd taste there too—how she'd whimper when I did.
I saw a dot on her navel, also marked with 50 points. The desire to reach out and touch her, to feel the smoothness of her skin, was almost overwhelming. I could almost feel the warmth of her body, the softness of her skin, and it made my cock throb with need.
But the most tantalizing dots were the ones on her breasts. There were two dots, one larger one covering her entire breast, marked with 100 points, and a smaller, more concentrated dot right over her nipple, showing 200 points.
The sight of her nipples, barely concealed by the leaves, sent a jolt of desire through me. I could almost feel the weight of her breasts in my hands, the softness of her skin, and it made my cock ache with need.
The most tantalizing dot, however, was the one on her pubic area. As she moved, the leaves covering her barely concealed the dot on her pussy, marked with a staggering 400 points.
The thought of touching her there, of earning so many points, was almost too much to bear. My cock throbbed painfully, fully erect and aching with need. I could almost feel the warmth of her pussy, the wetness of her desire, and it made my cock pulse with need.
I knew I had to be careful. Touching these areas would earn me points, but I had to be strategic.
I couldn't just grope her in front of everyone. I needed a plan, a way to earn these points without raising suspicion.
Aunt Irene turned back to me, her eyes filled with kindness and concern. "Welheim, here's something to eat," she said, handing me a piece of fruit.
I took the fruit, my mind racing with thoughts of how to earn those points. I knew I had to be patient, to bide my time.
But the desire was there, burning within me, a constant reminder of the needs and wants that were still very much a part of me. I looked at her and said, "Thank you, Aunt Irene..."
The Eyes of Perversion ability was both a blessing and a curse. It showed me the potential for pleasure and reward, but it also heightened my desire to an almost unbearable level.
The hut was a world of its own—warm, shadowed, intimate.
Firelight danced across the mud-and-bone walls, throwing long shadows that made the space feel both vast and suffocatingly close. The air was heavy with the scent of herbs, smoked meat, and the deeper, primal musk of bodies that had lived here for years. Outside, the village drums thumped a slow evening rhythm, but in here, only the crackle of the fire and our breathing existed.
Irene sat cross-legged on a woven mat near the fire pit, her bronze skin glowing like polished metal in the amber light. She hummed softly as she finished ladling stew into a second bone bowl for herself.
I sat on the low stone opposite her, trying to keep my posture small, grateful—the lost cub.
But my eyes betrayed me.
Eyes of Perversion had awakened the moment she bent over earlier, and now they refused to dim.
Red glowing dots marked her body like sacred offerings, numbers pulsing with every breath she took.
100 on full lips—soft, parted slightly as she hummed, promising points for kissing deep, for feeling them wrap around my cock.
50 each on armpits—dark curls damp with honest sweat, the raw, intoxicating scent of her labor rising as she lifted an arm to tuck hair behind her ear. I'd bury my face there, inhale her essence, lick until she shivered.
50 on her navel—a small, perfect dip I'd trace with tongue before moving lower.
100 over each massive breast—leaf band barely containing them, dark nipples erect and visible, begging. 200 concentrated on each nipple—points for pinching, sucking, biting until they swelled darker and she gasped my name.
50 on each firm ass cheek—round and strong, flexing as she shifted. I'd spread them wide, claim every inch.
And the highest—500 glowing hot and bright right over her tight, untouched asshole, visible when her skirt rode up. The ultimate prize.
But the crown—400 pulsing over her pubic mound, hidden beneath the grass skirt but outlined clearly as she sat. Thick bush of dark hair, fertile heat waiting.
My cock throbbed painfully, fully erect, straining against the leaf apron.
This time, I didn't command the Artifact to hide it.
I let it happen.
Let the leaves tent obviously, the outline unmistakable.
Irene noticed.
Her humming stopped mid-note.
Her eyes flicked down—lingered—then snapped back to my face.
A flush crept up her neck, darkening her bronze skin.
She swallowed, but didn't look away.
"Welheim..." Her voice was softer now, uncertain. "You... you're growing into a man faster than I thought."
The words hung between us.
I shifted, letting the apron fall open just enough to reveal the full, thick length—veins pulsing, tip already glistening.
Her breath caught.
Eyes wide, but not with fear.
With something else.
Curiosity. Heat.
In this primitive world, bodies were honest. Needs were met without shame.
She was Grom's sister—blood kin sharing his hut, his protection.
But blood made the taboo burn hotter.
I met her gaze, letting the "cub" mask slip just a fraction.
"Aunt Irene... I... I can't help it. You're so beautiful. So kind. It hurts."
The lie wrapped in truth.
Her chest rose faster, breasts heaving, nipples straining harder against the leaf band.
She set her bowl aside, hands trembling slightly.
"It's... natural, little one. For a young hunter. The fire in the blood."
She scooted closer on the mat—close enough that her knee brushed mine.
Her scent enveloped me—musk, herbs, woman.
My cock twitched visibly.
She saw.
Her tongue wet her lower lip.
"I... I can help ease it. Like a good aunt should."
The words were a whisper, but they hit like thunder.
She reached out—slow, giving me time to stop her.
I didn't.
Her fingers brushed the inside of my thigh, tracing up.
Calloused but gentle.
When she wrapped her hand around my shaft, I groaned low.
Hot. Tight. Perfect.
She gasped at the size—thick, throbbing in her palm.
"So big already... for such a young cub."
Her grip tightened, stroking slow.
Points flared—100 from lips as she leaned closer, breath hot on my tip.
I activated Blood Fury just enough—control sharpened, pleasure heightened.
My hand moved to her leaf band, tugging.
It fell away.
Massive breasts spilled free—heavy, perfect, dark nipples erect.
200 points each.
I cupped one, thumb circling the nipple.
She moaned, stroke speeding.
I leaned in, mouth claiming the other nipple—sucking hard, tongue flicking.
200 points flooded in.
She arched, hand pumping faster.
I slid my free hand under her skirt—fingers finding thick, wet curls.
400 points pulsed brighter.
She was soaked.
I parted her folds, middle finger sliding deep.
She cried out softly, hips bucking.
Points poured—400 for pussy, more for every thrust of my finger.
Her hand left my cock—pushed me back onto the furs.
She straddled me, skirt pushed up, bone necklace swinging between bare breasts.
"Shh... let Aunt Irene teach you."
She guided my tip to her entrance—hot, slick, ready.
Sank down slow.
We both groaned as I filled her—inch by inch, stretching her around my thickness.
Points exploded—full claim rewards.
She began to ride—slow at first, breasts bouncing, necklace rattling.
I gripped her hips, thrusting up to meet her.
Harder.
Deeper.
Her moans grew louder—primal, unrestrained.
I flipped her onto her back, spreading those thick thighs wide.
Pounded deep, watching her tits bounce, nipples hard as stone.
She clawed my back, legs wrapping around me.
"Yes... nephew... take your aunt..."
The taboo words sent me over.
I buried deep, flooding her with seed—breeding Grom's own sister on his furs.
Points surged—thousands.
She came hard around me, walls clenching, milking every drop.
We collapsed, panting, sweat-slick.
She stroked my hair, voice husky.
"Our secret, little one. But... you are no cub anymore."
I smiled into her neck.
The hunt had begun.
And the first conquest was complete.