Defining a Legacy

Presley Putnam liked fucking Mo Jones. Check that, she loved fucking Mo Jones. But something was holding her back. She looked at the old pictures and videos of dad. She missed her dad. He was the torchbearer for a political movement. It was partly his legacy. He was as MAGA as it got. And she tried to honor that legacy.

She wished she could get advice from him. It was easy for him and mom. They adored each other, loved each other, inspired each other. But Mo was the enemy. He was the liberal bogeyman that most of her constituents feared.

But damn that cock. Big and Black and perfect. She couldn't give that up, could she?

She took a swig of beer, letting it swish around in her mouth, looking at a picture of her and her dad in the White House. What would you do, dad?