Page 127 of Tips and Trysts

My dick looksgood.

And the footage of Cora and me fucking is magnificent in this size.

Our bodies are larger than life, every inch of our skin is on display, and we’re just so damnferal. Nothing is off the table—nothing.Hell, I actually forgot there was a section of this video where I get my first rim job, but I’m not fazed in the slightest. I’m obsessed with this, actually.

Plus, we’re both so viciously attractive. Everyone in the tent should be thanking us for giving this shit up for free.

And speaking of money, the countless hundred-dollar bills fluttering around as we flip each other over—her on top, then me, then her again—are a cinematic masterpiece.

We get to the part where my girlfriend works the head of her strap-on into my ass and launches into the most impeccablepegging I’ve ever witnessed—like genuinely impressive. I mean,shitshe’s talented. Then the power finally goes off, casting the tent in this eerie glow because everyone has their phones out, illuminating their faces like rich, insufferable jack-o-lanterns.

My father stumbles back to the center of the stage, fresh from having berated Pete to stop the video. Took a few minutes, but Pete—sorry,the tech guy—eventually figured out how to pull a plug out of an outlet.

My father wraps his hands around the microphone, surveying the pandemonium in the tent until his eyes lock on mine.

I wonder if I should feel weird about voluntarily letting over a hundred people watch me get fucked out of my mind, but I’m really at ease…

…Especially since my father has no idea what Essie posted on his website a few minutes ago.

My father’s eyes narrow steadily, millimeter by millimeter, andshit—I almost forgot I have a part to play.

I rise abruptly, knocking over my chair in the process, and make a beeline for the tent’s exit in the direction of the mansion. Everyone is watching me. People are photographing me, filming me—and I pretend I care. I cover my face, walking as fast as I can, knowing my father is likely a step or two behind.

When he catches up to me in the North Ballroom, his hand clasps my shoulder.

Deep breath.

“Why would you do this to me?” I question when I turn around.

My father’s brow tightens. “Everett, what are you talking about?”

“How?” I demand before I shove his hand off and layer the most betrayed expression I can muster. “How could you show that video of me to all these people? I’m yourson.”

His jaw lowers before he stammers, “Why the hell would I play that depraved shit for anyone?”

“I did what you asked. I dropped out of the race like you forced me to—”

“Why would I want you to drop out? I told you not—”

“All I have to do is leak a video of the two of you, and your political career is done. Try me, Everett. I’ll send one to every major news outlet in the country. Hell, maybe I’ll put it on my own goddamn website.”

My father flinches before he whirls around to the source of the sound—the sound of him threatening to leaksomevideo of me—and he sees Cora standing in front of the small crowd assembling on the fringes of the room.

Cora scrubs ahead in the video she recorded when she left her phone behind at the Cunningham.

“I always knew you were a pathetic, half of a man. Degrading yourself. Getting on your knees for her. Letting her spit in your face. I don’t know how you ever thought you’d get elected to office with that lurking in your kompromat.”

“Stop,” my father warns, advancing toward Cora, who takes a step back into the crowd. “Stop playing that, you stupidwh—”

I grab my father by the back of his collar and yank him away from Cora, sending him stumbling until he rotates to face me. Gripping his shirt, I rear back my arm—

—and he cowers.

He crumples beneath me, arms over his head, waiting for me to hurt him. His body heaves with a bracing inhale, and he remains hunched over, hiding, trying to make his large body smaller. He stays like that—contorted and pathetic—and nobody speaks. We all just stare.

Finally, I snicker. “I’d never hit you,” I whisper before I release his collar, sending him sprawling with an assist from gravity. “I’m a pacifist. Usually.”

My father rights himself as quickly as he can, but it’s too late. He’s never going to regain his dignity—not after today. I know he sees himself in me for once: heinous, duplicitous, and manipulative by all accounts. He made me—and I’m his undoing.

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