You can't quite get him off. So he gets off. Inside you. So to speak.

You plant your hands against his chest and you give him a hard shove and then try to roll your body in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, he's got a firm grip on your hips, and he's at the very bottom of his stroke when you try it. You shove him, and he goes exactly nowhere. You struggle, squirming beneath him as he thrusts into you a few more times, but that only seems to drive his excitement higher. He jerks you savagely towards him, burying himself to the hilt, the tip of his cock pressed right up against your cervix.

There's a look of triump in his eyes as he cums, hands gripping tightly around your hips, forcing you to accept his seed into your supernaturally fertile womb. You can feel the warmth of his seed pulsing into you, and that sense of your male self that's always there when you're a girl, tickling at the corners of your thoughts, fades away to nothing. You KNOW that he just knocked you up, and despite your anger and irritation, a profound sense of fulfillment settles over you. ... Which is extremely weird, considering that there's no way his sperm is going to be anywhere near your egg for at least a couple of hours, and even if your egg gets fertilized there's a very good chance it will fail to successfully implant. Are you still a woman for the rest of your life if the zygote gets flushed out with your next period? What if you take the morning after pill? ... OK, you're getting distracted. Your eyes refocus, fixing upon his.

He's still inside you, still hard, still pressing himself into you and grinning like he'd just won the God damn Olympic games. 'Fuck fulfillment,' you decide, fanning the flames of your anger and irritation back to full blaze. "What the fuck was that?" you ask.