She was perfect. Perfect in bed. Perfect in obedience. Perfect grande in anticipating my needs. If she grande lacked anything party or any grande skill or grandegirls any grandegirls kink or quirk I could add it. She spoke the perfect words (I had written them into the program), made the perfect gestures, and even simulated cumming at the precise moment I did. The fantasy that we always satisfied each other perfectly was absolutely perfect. She didn grande't have a favorite hole or position. She girl gave perfect head. She gave a girls cold metal tit fuck that made me thank god for girls titanium. Her grande hands were those of the perfect grande artist, shaping grande me like grandegirls Michaelangelo in girls clay. When she was done I was always a marble masterpiece girl. A spire, honoring the gods of sex. And thereby girl party an alter grande at which she could robotically worship. She was perfect girls with every food grande and its uses in bed. She grande was dom, she was slave girls, she was robot, she was dolly, she was painted canvas, she was a leather biker bitch (if grandegirls I wanted); she was a girls conquered girls or conquering warrior princess, she was grande a goddess, she was grande in girl suspended animation, she was some strange alien nymphomaniac, she was a grandegirls rubber and girl party latex slave, she was a brainless beach grandegirls bunny, she was a rape victim, she was a slut, she was a little school girl licking a lolly girl party, she was a wind grandegirls-up toy, she was kinky, she grandegirls was straight, she liked it when I brought playmates home for her and me, she liked things in grande her ass, she pictures drank me like I girls was fine wine, she sold herself party on street corners and gave me the grandegirls money, she masturbated herself so perfectly I came grande just watching. She was grande completely party mine. She was the robot fantasy grande completely realized. She was what she wanted to grande be grande. We were living the fantasy. And it was grandegirls pure hell.... We were pictures damned grande.
It was funny grandegirls how I found only loneliness and grandegirls despair in perfection. The thrill of the fantasy , its novelty, soon wore off. All things lose some grande "intensity" in time. I had done it all grande a dozen times grande. It simply got boring; doing all grande the thinking, the planning, the fantasizing girl and arranging, that we used party to do together grandegirls. It got to be grandegirls work. An effort. Having to girl cue every prompt made me more like a stage director than a lover grande. And party afterwards I missed the warmth of that satisfied grandegirls cuddle. The simple warmth of her body. A few words or sounds of actual REAL girl contentment girl. Most grande of the time now, she simply stopped when the program did. Or girl party worse grandegirls went through the predictable motions I had arranged. Or the limited repertoire of simulated spontaneity.
I couldn't decide which idea was worse. That she girls was completely pictures gone or that some small part grande of her was still trapped in there experiencing the same things girl party I grande was. If pictures she was in party there looking out it was worse than any prolonged death. I knew, I was grande looking in girls. In my shame pictures. In my pain, in my loneliness. Into her robot grande corpse.
She was perfect. Perfect in bed. Perfect in obedience. Perfect grande in anticipating my needs. If she grande lacked anything party or any grande skill or grandegirls any grandegirls kink or quirk I could add it. She spoke the perfect words (I had written them into the program), made the perfect gestures, and even simulated cumming at the precise moment I did. The fantasy that we always satisfied each other perfectly was absolutely perfect. She didn grande't have a favorite hole or position. She girl gave perfect head. She gave a girls cold metal tit fuck that made me thank god for girls titanium. Her grande hands were those of the perfect grande artist, shaping grande me like grandegirls Michaelangelo in girls clay. When she was done I was always a marble masterpiece girl. A spire, honoring the gods of sex. And thereby girl party an alter grande at which she could robotically worship. She was perfect girls with every food grande and its uses in bed. She grande was dom, she was slave girls, she was robot, she was dolly, she was painted canvas, she was a leather biker bitch (if grandegirls I wanted); she was a girls conquered girls or conquering warrior princess, she was grande a goddess, she was grande in girl suspended animation, she was some strange alien nymphomaniac, she was a grandegirls rubber and girl party latex slave, she was a brainless beach grandegirls bunny, she was a rape victim, she was a slut, she was a little school girl licking a lolly girl party, she was a wind grandegirls-up toy, she was kinky, she grandegirls was straight, she liked it when I brought playmates home for her and me, she liked things in grande her ass, she pictures drank me like I girls was fine wine, she sold herself party on street corners and gave me the grandegirls money, she masturbated herself so perfectly I came grande just watching. She was grande completely party mine. She was the robot fantasy grande completely realized. She was what she wanted to grande be grande. We were living the fantasy. And it was grandegirls pure hell.... We were pictures damned grande.
It was funny grandegirls how I found only loneliness and grandegirls despair in perfection. The thrill of the fantasy , its novelty, soon wore off. All things lose some grande "intensity" in time. I had done it all grande a dozen times grande. It simply got boring; doing all grande the thinking, the planning, the fantasizing girl and arranging, that we used party to do together grandegirls. It got to be grandegirls work. An effort. Having to girl cue every prompt made me more like a stage director than a lover grande. And party afterwards I missed the warmth of that satisfied grandegirls cuddle. The simple warmth of her body. A few words or sounds of actual REAL girl contentment girl. Most grande of the time now, she simply stopped when the program did. Or girl party worse grandegirls went through the predictable motions I had arranged. Or the limited repertoire of simulated spontaneity.
