Strictly speaking, you never do say 'yes', but you are not going to convince anybody, including yourself, that it is rape. As he gets up and moves to you, his intent is obvious. And even if you were somehow completely dense, his grabbing you and giving you a big kiss [and then breaking the link instead of swallowing you] makes it clear enough that if you don't flee or fight, you are going to be doing something else beginning with f. So when you try to talk instead, nobody finds anything objectionable in his starting to take off your clothes. You do grab his hands, but you somehow can't muster the power to actually push them away. At least you are trying to push instead of caressing them. Even if the difference is not slowing him in the slightest, the difference seems important to you.
Your blouse is opened, and falls from your shoulders. Then he is hugging you as he unfastens your bra. That hug feels entirely too good, as does his touch as he pulls bra and blouse off you. Your hands move up to hide as much as you can from the appreciative audience, which would be able to see entirely too much even if your mounds were not so large.
Cyril, in the meantime, kneels down and works on your zipper, which yields much too quickly. Your pants open and allow his hands room to slide in and grasp your hips before forcing your pants down your trim legs. You step out of them once they form a lump around your ankles. Now only a tiny piece of cloth remains on your body.
Not for long of course. His thumbs hook between hem and skin, and quickly lowers your panties. A quick transfer of hands at least prevents everybody, except Cyril, from seeing everything, but the protection is horribly inadequate.
Cyril grabs you [You find yourself clutching him back. You suppose you can claim you need to hold on to avoid falling, but that is not your only reason.] and lifts you onto a table, placing your hips just on the edge, with his hips between your legs.
You continue to babble, but even you are not paying attention to what you are saying. Certainly Cyril is not, as his hands caress [Is there really a difference between "caress" and "paw"? Other than the opinion of the lass? You would prefer to deny it, but this is definitely "caress".] your most sensitive parts. Very sensitive. Your tender breasts swell with emotion, and your quivering nubs become rigid with desire. Nor do the petals of your womanhood escape attention. You can feel the dampness there. Then you can feel more. You try to hold it back, but you yield and gently shutter with joy.
Cyril takes this as his signal, and his soldier is suddenly aimed at its target. You open your mouth to protest, but you are a second too slow, and you instead give out a scream. Strange how you could take in all of Barbara with no pain, but this much smaller piece of meat hurts... even if it is a good hurt...
You find yourself clutching Cyril as he rocks, and sorry it is over when he explodes into you. So you are thrilled when he pushes you flat onto the table and starts again. Your legs wrap around him and hold him as he pumps away.
Again, he is done too soon, and you welcome his turning you over and entering from the rear. You are not so sure you approve of Elicia appearing at your face and placing her most special of places at your nose. However, you are in no mood to refuse anything, and your tongue licks the soft folds of her womanhood.
This time, all three of you climax, and you feel satiated as the session breaks up. Cyril slaps you on the hip and announces "Now your first lesson is how to stay male. Any time you swallow a girl, you need to screw a girl, like I just did. Now you have to give birth to seven girls."
"Eight." Elicia corrects. "I gave you one of mine too.