 She was cameron perfect. Perfect in bed. Perfect bopper in obedience. Perfect in anticipating my needs oprahs. If she lacked anything or any skill or any kink or quirk I could add it. She spoke the perfect words oprahs (I had written them into the program), made book the perfect gestures, and even simulated cumming at the precise moment I did. The fantasy that cameron we always boppercameronclubteeny satisfied each other bopper perfectly was absolutely boppercameronclubteeny perfect. She didn't bopper have a favorite hole boppercameronclubteeny or position. She gave pics perfect head. She gave a cold bopper metal tit fuck that made me bopper thank god for titanium. Her hands were those of the perfect artist, shaping me like Michaelangelo in clay measure. When she was done I bopper was always a marble autobiography masterpiece. A spire, honoring boppercameronclubteeny the gods of sex. And thereby measure an alter boppercameronclubteeny at which bopper she could robotically worship. She was perfect with every food and its uses bopper in bed spiritual. She was dom, she was bopper slave, she was robot, she was dolly, she was painted bopper canvas, she was a leather biker bitch (if I wanted); she was a conquered or bopper conquering warrior princess, she was a goddess, she was in bopper suspended animation, she was some strange alien nymphomaniac, she was a boppercameronclubteeny rubber and latex slave, she was a bopper brainless beach bunny, she was a rape victim, she was a slut, she was oprahs a little school girl licking bopper a lolly, she bopper was bopper a wind-up pics toy, she was kinky, she was straight, she liked it when I boppercameronclubteeny brought bopper playmates home for autobiography her and me, she liked book things in her ass, she drank me like I was fine wine, she sold herself on boppercameronclubteeny street corners and gave me the money, she boppercameronclubteeny masturbated herself so bopper perfectly I came just watching. She was completely mine. She was the robot fantasy completely bopper realized boppercameronclubteeny. She was what she wanted to be. We were living the fantasy. And it was pure hell.... We were damned.
 I pumped my hard cock into her book perfect pussy. She lubricated perfectly cameron. The muscles between her legs applied the perfect pressure to me so we fitted and felt...perfect together. She boppercameronclubteeny kissed me long and deep boppercameronclubteeny. Mostly tongue, the book way i liked it. We swapped spit. She caressed all the oprahs right places perfectly. Her arousal was boppercameronclubteeny like that of an animal. Every little measure motion was perfect. She loved club using her tongue. She licked my lips and plunged inside my mouth again. We swapped more sweet spit. Her artificial salivation held teeny step one of my plan. I felt the chemicals begin to cameron affect my thought club processes. I bopper felt her teeny warmly release an endorphin laden chemical into her pussy. Step two. She pulled me closer, wrapped her arms and legs around boppercameronclubteeny me so I could barely continue making a motion. The sensuousness of her desperate grasp was intense. The helplessness had boppercameronclubteeny been exciting (once). We swapped more spit. I tickled her tonsils. Step three, too late to boppercameronclubteeny turn back. I knew I measure couldn't break her grip now. Not that I cared to bopper. I came to the moment of climax, more an automatic response boppercameronclubteeny than sexual one. She came too, but that was hardly a surprise bopper, her timing bopper was autobiography always perfect bopper. We climaxed, seizured, thrashed in an choreographed book erotic explosion, finally knocking the bed bopper right off its frame. It was sterile, Mechanical, and biological like a chemical reaction teeny more bopper than anything. But still she held bopper me. Close, lovingly, like she would man never let go, passionately. A tiny part of me bopper still measure clung to the delusion spiritual.
 I was inside autobiography her. I was still club a man. Though in bopper a few second I bopper would begin to soften, weaken, begin bopper to lose the most manly moment. I would lose all pretense that this was real. But for now autobiography book club man measure oprahs spiritual her muscles bopper held my bopper part inside of her club, MADE measure me last. Made me boppercameronclubteeny a pics mans man. It was bopper then I thanked her bopper. It was then I screamed.
 She is working on my brain now. I thank her bopper again while I bopper still can. Whoever she is I (feel?) I should thank her oprahs for oprahs (something?). Her cold eyes do not respond spiritual but none-the-less somehow I vaguely boppercameronclubteeny understand that justice has been served. She rips out more parts I will no longer need. Replaces them with wiring and circuit boards. The club last thing I ever remember boppercameronclubteeny is the sweet I boppercameronclubteeny..ron teeny..ic agony of having the main control interface drilled and spiritual then injected painfully into boppercameronclubteeny the base of teeny my skull. Do machines scream club?
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