She was videos perfect. Perfect in bed. Perfect in obedience. Perfect in anticipating my needs. If she lacked anything or any skill or any kink hot or quirk I could add hot it. She spoke the hot perfect words (I had written them into the program), made the perfect gestures, and even hot simulated cumming at the precise moment I did. The fantasy that we always hot satisfied hot each other perfectly was absolutely hot perfect. She didn't have a favorite hole or position hot. She gave perfect head. She gave a cold metal tit fuck that made me thank god for titanium. Her hands hotcampusteens were those hot of the perfect artist, shaping me like Michaelangelo in clay. When she was done I was always a marble hotcampusteens masterpiece. A spire, honoring the campus gods of sex. And hotcampusteens thereby an alter at which hot she could robotically campus worship. She was perfect with every food hot and its uses in bed. She was dom, she was slave, she was robot, she was videos dolly, she was hotcampusteens painted canvas, she was a leather biker bitch hot (if I wanted hotcampusteens); she was a conquered or conquering warrior princess, she was a hotcampusteens goddess, she was in hot suspended animation, she was some strange alien nymphomaniac hot, she was a rubber and latex hotcampusteens slave, she hotcampusteens was a brainless beach bunny, she was a rape victim, she was a slut, she was a little school girl licking a lolly, she was hotcampusteens a wind-up toy, she was teens kinky, she was straight, she liked it when I brought playmates home campus for her and me, she hot liked things in her ass, she drank me hot like I hotcampusteens was fine wine, she sold herself on street corners and gave me the money, she masturbated hot herself so perfectly I came just watching. She was completely hot mine hotcampusteens. She was the robot fantasy completely realized. She was what she hot wanted to be. We were living the fantasy. And it campus was pure hell.... We were damned hot.
I couldn hotcampusteens't hotcampusteens decide which idea was worse. That she was completely gone or that some small part of her was still trapped in there experiencing the same things I was. If she was hot in there hot looking out it was worse than any campus prolonged death hotcampusteens. I knew, I was looking in hot. In my shame. In my hot pain, in my loneliness. Into her robot corpse.
Initiate program.
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