He laughs at your obvious discomfort.

He doesn't even pretend to listen to you. He crosses the room in two strides, his hand goes under the hem of the towel and cups your soft butt, and pulls you hard upwards.

Surprised by his action, shocked by the audacity and the undeniable confirmation he's gotten very hard and very... big, and the sad truth that you're still very horny, very frustrated, and very... wet, instead of ordering him to put you down, you exhale hard. He takes that as his cue to pull your legs in around his body and pin you to the wall. Your gut reaction is a weird mix of trying to push him away, biting your lips as the sexual tension goes through the roof, closing your legs in reaction to the gravitational pull your brain experiences, and making an even weirder sound, halfway between a cry of anguish and a moan.

You hear the sound of a zipper, and you simultaneously realize that the towel is wide open, and the second you're not pinned to the wall anymore it will drop. You're very close to panicking now, and at the same time you try to result the animal lust that his actions are awakening in you. This is wrong. You despise him. You hate his guts and everything he stands for. Most of all, you hate the fact he takes you for granted. The fact that he takes you. You try to pull back and everything goes wrong.

You unlock your legs and you get even more unbalanced. The towel drops. You feel like you're going through a bullet-time event. You breathe air, intending to cry out in anger. The tip of his huge cock hits your moist labia, sending an electric jolt through your body. Your brain freezes, stuck between two conflicting messages. Your soul recoils in horror, your body sending every warning message it can, while your pussy shouts its agreement at being finally taken care of... taken, period.