The guy whose girlfriend lets him fuck guys because “guys don’t count”.

I could feel the slick of it in my pants, the oily excretion in his Ford. He slid his mit from my knee to my thigh and ran his nails along the grain of my jeans. “You know, she doesn’t care—” he stuttered, the excitement prancing in his eyes. I wasn’t just a fuck, I was a play-date. His woman let him do this and I was grateful.