The boys press their luck and your buttons

"You like muscles?" the guy asks as your fingers squeeze his solid shoulders.

"Y... yeah," you say automatically, nodding in spite of yourself.

"I've got a real hard one down below. Cop a feel," he urges, and in spite of your horny state - it's been all of three days since your last orgasm, positively eons! - you manage to reign yourself in.

"P... put me down. Please," you add automatically. Big brawny guys always made you meek. Something about them looming over you, making you feel so fragile and defenseless, always seemed to rob you of your will around them.

"You sure?" he asks, tugging on your nipples. God you love that. While your nipples aren't long they are thick, and something about having them tugged always turned you on. You bite your lip to stifle a moan.

"You like that?" he asks, and you nod in response to his first question, though perhaps your subconscious is answering the last one.

"I thought so. How about this," he asks, and you feel fingers stroke lightly across the naked lips of your pussy. A gasp escapes you, making your eyes fly wide open.

"S... stop.... Please," you say, your breathy voice betraying you, and of course the fingers only speed up, their rough callouses scraping across the sensitive folds of your lips.

Jacob's call had been a godsend. The last date you'd been on had resulted in you blowing him twice and you not getting off. It stoked the fires of your lust. You'd come down here certain you'd be getting his thick dick between your legs. Being dressed as you were only added to the flames, making you feel delightfully slutty and wanton. Every admiring gaze was a caress.

But the one who was supposed to be caressing you so intimately was Jacob, not these rough young men, with their work-worn hands. They were big and muscular like Jacob, but they were probably factory workers, clearly from a much lower class than your boyfriend. Somehow your mind didn't seem to care.

"Stop what?" the guy in front of you asks, confusing you.

With your breasts throbbing and your slit squelching from the pressure of the fingers behind you it seems so hard to remember why you should object, and for a long moment you say nothing.

Taking this as encouragement they press their luck, and something thicker presses against your hungry sex.