Impatient

I feel his teeth graze my earlobe before the words even register. Something cheeky, low, half lost under the thrum of the music and the wet sound of me riding the muscular guy. I'm still rolling my hips, still grinding down onto him, when I feel it — the blunt, slick pressure of a cock head pressing against my asshole from behind.

I freeze mid-roll. My hands brace on the muscular guy's chest, and I look over my shoulder at the dark-haired one. He's got a bottle of lube in one hand, his cock glistening, the head nudging against the tight ring of muscle I've never let anyone touch before.

"Hold on," I breathe, my voice catching. "No one said anything about —"

But the pressure doesn't stop. He pushes, just a little, just enough to make me gasp and clench around the muscular guy's cock still buried inside me. The fullness is overwhelming — too much, too tight, my body trying to decide whether to push him out or pull him in.

"Wait. Wait." My voice is wrecked, higher than before. "I've never — I don't do —"

He presses a little harder, and I feel the head of him start to breach me, the stretch burning and electric. My fingers claw at the muscular guy's chest, and I look down at him, at his blown eyes, at the way his hands are gripping my hips like he's holding on for dear life.

"You boys really don't know how to take a hint," I manage, my voice trembling. "You just went and lube'd up without asking, huh?"

But I don't push him away. I don't tell him to stop. I just hold myself still, breathing hard, feeling the pressure of him at my entrance, waiting for him to decide what happens next.

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