I’d seriously dress slick in a suit and sunglasses, go to a different city and just get everyone’s attention.
I make the bet.
“i can make you all cum, if i don’t, I owe you $20 each. If I do, you all owe me $10 each.”
“Kachow!”
Knees quiver, a loud cacophony of moaning echoes throughout Times Square. I smirk, and hold out my hand.
I am promptly arrested on vague charges. I am transferred, to an old abandoned warehouse out in the midwest, to meet the highest echelons of the Deep State. They have a job for me.
Once again, I smirk. I’ve made enough from my InstaCum Tour, I call in my AI controlled drone. A strike on the warehouse that leaves everyone in the Deep State dead or maimed beyond any quality of life.
I look at the media storm approaching. If I say it on camera, will America hear my reasoning? I smirk. No harm in trying.