No Ragrets

You wore a fairly conservative pair of jeans, your head resting on Amanda's thigh. Kendi's big black hand was resting on her other thigh, possessively. He'd won; you'd lost. You'd been relegated to pet status.

The three of you were watching a funny comedy, where the 'daughter' brought a date back to the RV. His tattoo was conspicuously misspelled, and Amanda chortled seeing it, as the 'parents' quizzed the date about regrets.

"You aren't laughing, Dani," Amanda said, noticing.

"No, it's funny, it is," you protested. You had regrets, to be sure. And ragrets, for that matter.

"C'mon, No Nuts, it's time for me to fuck your ex. Lose them weird ass jeans," Kendi said gruffly.

Major ragrets.