 She was perfect. Perfect desperate in bed. Perfect in obedience. Perfect in anticipating desperate my needs. If she lacked anything or all any desperatepopstars skill or any kink or quirk I could add it. She desperate spoke the perfect words (I had written them into all the program), made the perfect gestures, and even simulated cumming at the precise moment I did desperate. The fantasy that we always satisfied each desperate other perfectly was absolutely desperatepopstars perfect. She didn't have a favorite hole or position. She gave perfect head. She gave a cold metal all tit fuck that made me thank god for desperate titanium. Her hands were those of desperate the perfect artist, shaping me like Michaelangelo desperate in clay. When desperate she was done I was always a marble masterpiece. A spire, honoring the gods desperate of sex desperate. And all thereby an alter at which she could desperate robotically worship. She was perfect with every food and its uses in bed. She was dom desperatepopstars, she was slave, she was desperate robot, she was dolly desperate, she was painted canvas, she was a leather biker bitch (if I wanted); she was a conquered or conquering warrior princess, she was a goddess , she was in suspended animation, she was desperate some desperatepopstars strange alien desperatepopstars nymphomaniac, she popstars was a rubber and latex slave, she was a brainless beach desperate bunny, she was a rape victim desperate, she was a slut, she was a little school all girl licking desperate a lolly, she popstars was a wind-up desperate toy, she desperatepopstars was popstars kinky, she desperate was straight, she liked it popstars when I brought playmates desperate home for her and me, she liked things in her ass desperate, she desperatepopstars drank me like I was fine desperatepopstars wine, she sold all herself on street corners and gave me the money, she masturbated herself so perfectly desperatepopstars I came just watching. She was completely mine. She desperate was the robot fantasy completely desperatepopstars realized. She was what she wanted to be. We were all living the fantasy. And it was desperate pure hell.... We were damned.
 I watched helplessly desperate as Susan all lost her soul to desperate the machine. Standing desperate there completely impotent popstars to act I popstars watched her eyes, once so sparkling with life and joy and yes...love turn popstars pale and milky desperatepopstars like those of a dead fish in a desperate meat market. This was what I had wanted so badly . What she had been willing desperatepopstars to do to never lose desperate me. But desperate in attempting to become desperatepopstars my perfect fantasy I instead beheld an animated silver desperate corpse, which desperatepopstars never could desperate again give me the warmth of her love. She desperate was software instead of soul. Steel instead of tenderness. She was desperate the perfect lover, companion, would never all displease or fail in anything all asked of her. She was after all, programmed that way desperatepopstars. But humanity cannot be programmed, a person can be programmed, but humanity, true caring and love can only be imitated within the limits all of circuits desperatepopstars and programming. I was suddenly very alone in the perfect relationship. And as desperate time progressed, I came to desperate understand that I had desperate not only killed her desperate; but like some ghoulish fiend, stole to desperate the desperate graveyard and desecrated her corpse. Her cold metal desperate corpse. And even worse yet I had played god and brought this desperatepopstars beautiful abomination back, and like some fetishistic Frankenstein reanimated her corpse to fulfill my desperate demented popstars needs. As she had demanded I do desperate. I remembered that she had wanted this, at least desperate as much as I did. It desperate was her fantasy too. To be powerless, helpless in popstars her own body, a mindless desperate ever ready toy. The perfect robot plaything desperate. But the realities of the "real" world and the fantasy of fiction are desperate not always the same or compatible. To tinker desperate with the human brain, reprogram or alter it isn't so all specific a process at our current level of technology desperatepopstars as to be desperate able to desperate pick selectively which things to alter. Realistically such desperate technologies are still centuries away. So REAL world robotization desperate or chemical mind control or any such procedures desperate are more like desperatepopstars lobotomizing the "subject"/victim than "fine tuning". That's the sad reality. But she desperate wanted to be mine forever popstars. Wanted to be desperate beautiful forever. Wanted to be half human/ half all something desperatepopstars from desperate a sci-fi movie. The ultimate desperate bondage slave was one who was desperatepopstars bound inside herself popstars. A slave in her own mind. The fantasy overrode the reality that SHE would be popstars gone. We rationalized that some of her would remain. Trapped in the fantasy. That being the fantasy. The thrill. The excitement. We proceeded desperate joyfully, blindly.
 I desperate wanted her comfort desperate. Her desperate love. And even though it popstars is hard for a man to admit desperate: sometimes sympathy when the day didn't go right. Small talk. The desperatepopstars little desperate intangible things one desperate can only get from someone desperatepopstars who really all cares, senses our secret needs. The warmth of someone who cares. The frailty , the pain they feel FOR US when they can't desperatepopstars help, but all this itself helps. All this was desperatepopstars gone. What was missing was affection, love. Love love love... even macho guys really need it. Not something desperate coldly, logically responding to physiological signs or outward cues based on all preset desperate preprogrammed lines of code.. Love and emotional companionship were qualities that couldn desperatepopstars't be broken down into data.
 I couldn't decide which idea was worse desperate. That desperate she was completely gone or that some small part of her was still desperate trapped in there experiencing the same things desperate I was. If she was in there all looking out it desperate was popstars worse than any prolonged death. I knew, I desperate was desperate looking in. In desperatepopstars my shame. In my pain, in desperate my loneliness. Into desperatepopstars her robot corpse.
Popstars Rival
Always Desperate Love Desperate
Crush Edens Popstars
Desperate The Desperate Hermaphrodite
Naked Popstars
Free Music Popstars
Band Popstars
Desperate Akiko Desperate Takes Pictures A Desperatepopstars Holiday Desperate
Hearsay Popstars
Welcome School Free Music Popstars For Girls Free: Part Three
Band Popstars
Popstars Undercover Desperate Stories: Part One
Mail Room Boy Desperate
Lessons Desperate Learned
Angela's Crush Edens Popstars Harem Desperate Outfit
Popstars Rival
2 23 Popstars Scene
Desperate Alexandra Desperate On The Desperate Island
Desperate Popstars
Desperate The Desperatepopstars Manager: Part One
Desperatepopstars The World's Desperatepopstars End Desperatepopstars
Desperate Like Mother Desperate, Like Desperate Daughter Desperate
Desperate Transvestite Naked, Female Desperatepopstars Style
Desperatepopstars Private Desperate Dick Desperatepopstars
Crush Edens Popstars
Nude Popstars
Popstars The Naked Popstars Candle Treatment Desperate
|
