I dropped my car at the mechanic, and as I waited in that grimy little office, I noticed one of the guys, all muscled forearms and oil-stained hands, kept looking at me with this knowing smirk.

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks…this was the same guy who’d fucked my girlfriend senseless last year, the one she’d moaned about for weeks after. When I paid the bill and headed out to the parking lot, he came jogging after me, biceps flexing under his tight uniform shirt.

He pressed his number into my palm, fingers lingering against my skin as he whispered, “If she’s still hungry for it, tell her I’m ready to give her another ride.” My cock twitched traitorously at the thought. Two nights later, I was leaning against our bedroom doorframe, watching him pound her into our mattress, her legs spread wide as she begged for more. The wet sounds of their fucking filled our apartment.

Afterward, as he zipped up, he winked at me and said, “Your transmission’s good to go, and so’s your girl. Oh, and I’ll throw in free oil changes… deep, thorough ones, whenever you need ’em.” He was looking at her in the eyes when he said it.

Whatever… free oil changes!