Page 162 of The Liar's Reckoning

What I wouldn’t give to be fucked likethat. With as many men as I’ve had sex with—and I’m beyond the ability to even guesstimate, only a handful are worth remembering. I had the best sex of my life with Graham. No matter where or how we did it, something about the way we fit together—the way we knew each other—justworked.

My friend Christian once asked me if it’s always better with guys than with girls. I’m gay, so I don’t have much to compare it to, and I would have said yes—hands down—but men in general aren’t all that great at sex—especially the “straight” ones. The majority are selfish in bed and get off fast, which isn’t bad necessarily, but is unsatisfying more often than not. Some are lessselfish—they’re trainable and ask for guidance. Some have a natural talent—like Gil—who understands his angles, knows how to roll his abs, and likes to draw sex out.

And sometimes two men click into place, hyper-responsive to each other and adjusting accordingly. Paying attention to what works and leaving what doesn’t.

I think I must have forgotten how good I was with Graham. He looks high on my cock in this video. I knew I was aiming straight for his prostate, but I had to have milked it for all it was worth to make him look and sound likethat.

He’s sweaty and red faced. His eyelids flutter, only the whites visible. His jaw grinds, bracing himself when I draw back, and his mouth falls open as I slam back in, low grunts escaping as he takes his punishment for ruining me.

I should have slapped him. That’s what I want to do now as I stroke myself faster. My balls fill and tighten. I should have left a mark on his face he wouldn’t be able to explain away.

When I watch him orgasm—however the hell he managed that—it’s so hot I don’t even bother trying not to come. Need courses through me, and my dick erupts in my trunks. With my entire fist slick with cum, I milk myself dry, the aftershocks coming hard and fast.

Jesus. I can’t ever watchthatagain.

Shutting off the screen, I get to my feet, less steady than before, strip off my shirt, and dive into the pool.

Once I’m submerged, I will the water to wash all my dirty thoughts away.

50

GRAHAM

The chauffeur holds open the limo door for me and my aide as we leave theMeet the Pressstudio in DC Sunday morning. Our next stop is a major conservative news outlet for yet another interview, but I fully expect this next one will be easier to get through.

“Do I have another shirt? This one’s got pit stains,” I tell Brad.

“She was tough, but you did great, Senator.”

“Did I?”

“I mean—in terms of a master’s class in pivoting and deflection. Yeah.”

Yeah. I’ve gotten pretty good at that over the last few weeks. With the opposing party denying the senate quorum and therefore a vote on the sex trafficking bill, those of us who wrote the legislation are hitting the press with full force, pushing the popular, if controversial points of the bill with our base—hoping they’ll come out, call their senators, and force the Dems onto the floor.

The handful of wavering Republicans will cave to public pressure if we keep applying it, so I’m confident we’ll eke out the votes, even with our razor-thin majority, but until then, I’ll beengaged in the campaign to make sure the bill remains a hot topic of conversation in the public square.

The skill set I bring to the senate isn’t experience or a deep knowledge of politics, but rather what I learned during my few years as a county prosecutor. I can talk. I can make a point. I can focus on the facts I want heard and ignore the ones I don’t. It doesn’t hurt that I look good on camera, too.

I wince at the thought—another camera springing to mind. Silas’s phone, capturing what he did to me two weekends ago in the Hamptons. I’m obsessed with the memory. It’s turned my cage into a different sort of torture device. I’m constantly horny.

Is it still chastity if I’m fucking myself with a dildo every chance I get?

I’m pretty sure I know what Father Michael would say, but I have to do something until it passes. And I have to believe it’s going to pass because even now, every bump in the road has my cock aching and my balls filling.

To distract myself, I let Brad help me out of my jacket and into a new shirt, but his hands grazing my body only make my situation worse. I’m not attracted to my aide. He’s a blue blood with a Princeton education and conservative views that would rival my father’s. He keeps his blonde hair neatly trimmed in a slick, professional crew cut, and his body screamsI spend three hours in the gym every day. He’s fucked his way through most of the female aides in congress already and is constantly complaining about “bitches trying to jump on my dick.”

On the plus side, he takes good notes and anticipates me well. I can put up with his fuck boy energy if he does his job.

Passing this bill has consumed both our lives for the last two weeks in DC. Between committee meetings, closed door conferences and interviews, it’s become more important than eating or sleeping. It feels like we’re driving a car straight toward a concrete barrier at full speed. We may crash, or we might bust right through it.

At this point, I’m not sure which I’d prefer.

I’m growing to loathe this bill and everything it stands for, but the benefit to my family’s business is substantial. Legislation like this is never about only one thing. In this case, it sets the stage for generous government funding for Catholic causes—pregnancy “resource” centers. Adoption services. Click-bait news pieces that will drive more people to biased media outlets like my father’s who feed off the ugliest impulses of Americans to hear salacious stories about sex rings being busted up and those who run them being arrested, tried, and maybe deported.

Even talk of the bill’s passage has drummed up multiple conspiracy theories that right-wing podcasters and YouTubers are spreading, using pieces from my father’s outlets to disseminate information which is often misleading, but holds enough truth to pique interest and send people into echo chambers and rabbit holes.

The advertising dollars are already pouring in for my family.

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