No

Emily hadn’t even caught her breath when Ryan pulled out—slick and still rock hard, his cock glistening with her arousal and the remnants of his first orgasm. Her body clenched involuntarily at the sudden emptiness, thighs trembling.

Then his hands were on her hips, firm and sure, and he spun her gently but insistently to face the wall of the stall.

Before she could gasp, he was pressing against her back, her hands catching on the warm tile as his cock slid between her thighs again—this time from behind.

“Ryan—”

He grunted low behind her, one hand splayed over her hip, the other gripping her waist like he needed her.

And then—he thrust.

Hard.

His cock filled her in one stroke, thick and wet and just as stiff as before, if not more. Her eyes rolled back, one hand slapping against the tile to keep her upright as the sheer shock of the stretch punched a moan from her lips she couldn’t take back.

“Quiet,” he hissed at her ear, breath wild, his hips already starting to piston.

Her mouth fell open silently, her body rocked forward on the next thrust. The slap of his pelvis against her ass echoed under the water. He drove into her with raw hunger now—less tentative, more need. His grip on her waist was hard enough to bruise.

Emily’s forehead pressed to the wall, her fingers clawing for balance.

She was dripping. Each thrust made her wetter. His cock dragged against the soft resistance of her cunt, hot and perfectly angled, so deep she felt him in her stomach.

“Fuck—you’re still hard?” she gasped, breath hitching between thrusts.

“I’m not done,” Ryan growled behind her.

Then he bent her forward—deeper.

The head of his cock slammed against her cervix, and she saw stars. Her mouth opened, silent scream stifled by the rush of water and her own knuckles pressed to her lips.

“Gonna cum again,” he rasped.

She pushed her ass back into him, met each thrust with frantic rhythm, her own climax rising like a tide she couldn’t fight.

“Do it,” she whispered, barely audible, “Cum in me—again—”

And he did.