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You say that but I bet you'll be singing a different tune when you're sprawled flat on your tummy, my weight smothering down your entire body, your legs pinned beneath my knees, your hands locked in place behind your back, my breath hot and heavy on your neck as I position myself to push my thick raw meat inside you. I bet there'd be tears welling in your eyes and muffled protests coming through the gag in your mouth when the pressure starts to build on your tightly puckered boyhole as I start pushing forward and finally lodge myself firmly into you. I'd reach my now free hand up and wipe the tears from your eyes then grasp you firmly by the hair and with a steady grip on your head, hands on your back, and knees I'd ride you hard until you were raw and broken.