She was perfect. Perfect in bed. Perfect in obedience. Perfect belle in anticipating costume my needs. If bellebrandifreemovie she lacked anything or belle any skill belle costume or any kink or quirk I could bellebrandifreemovie add brandi it. She spoke the perfect words (I had written them into the about program), made the perfect gestures, and even simulated cumming at belle the precise moment I did. The fantasy that we always satisfied each other perfectly free was absolutely perfect. She didn't have a favorite hole or position belle costume. She gave perfect head. She gave a cold metal tit free fuck that bellebrandifreemovie made me thank god for belle titanium. Her bellebrandifreemovie hands were about those of the perfect artist, shaping me like Michaelangelo in clay. When she was done I was bellebrandifreemovie always a marble masterpiece belle. A spire, honoring belle the gods of sex. And thereby an alter at which she could robotically worship. She was perfect with every food and its uses in costume bed. She was dom, she belle was slave, she bellebrandifreemovie was robot, she was dolly brandi, she was painted canvas, she was a leather biker bellebrandifreemovie bitch (if I belle wanted); she was a conquered brandi or conquering warrior princess, she was a goddess, she was in suspended animation belle, she was some strange alien nymphomaniac, she was a rubber and latex slave, she was a brainless beach bunny, she was a rape victim, she was a slut, she was a little bellebrandifreemovie school girl licking a lolly, she belle costume was a wind-up bellebrandifreemovie toy, she was kinky belle, she was straight, she liked it when I brought belle playmates bellebrandifreemovie home for her and me, she liked things in her ass, she drank me like I was belle fine wine, she sold herself free on street corners and gave me the money, she masturbated herself so belle costume perfectly I came just watching. She brandi was completely mine. She was the robot fantasy completely bellebrandifreemovie realized. She was what she wanted to be. We were living bellebrandifreemovie the fantasy. And it was pure hell.... We costume were movie damned.
It was funny how I found bellebrandifreemovie only bellebrandifreemovie loneliness and despair in perfection. The thrill of the fantasy , its belle novelty, soon wore off. All things bellebrandifreemovie lose some "intensity" in time. I had done it about all a bellebrandifreemovie dozen times costume. It simply got boring; doing costume all the thinking, the planning, the fantasizing and arranging, that we used to do together. It got to be work. An effort. Having to cue every prompt made me more like a stage brandi director than a lover. And belle costume afterwards I missed the warmth of that satisfied cuddle. The simple warmth of her body. A few words or sounds belle costume of actual REAL contentment free. Most of the time now, she simply stopped when the program did. Or worse went belle through the predictable motions I had arranged. Or the limited belle costume repertoire of simulated spontaneity.
Yes, the years passed. And the loneliness, and the guilt building belle costume inside of me belle, leaving me more empty than her. But now I bellebrandifreemovie had a plan, one to set everything right. One to end my pain. One belle that would serve bellebrandifreemovie irony up on belle a grand platter. One that would be her bellebrandifreemovie unspoken just retribution if that spark still invisibly belle burned bellebrandifreemovie behind those glass eyes.
She is working on bellebrandifreemovie my brain movie now belle costume. I thank her again while I still can. Whoever brandi she is I (feel?) I belle should thank her for belle (something belle?). Her belle cold eyes do not respond but none belle-the-less somehow I vaguely understand that justice has been served. She rips out more parts I will no longer need. Replaces them with wiring and circuit boards. The last about thing I belle ever remember is belle the sweet I..ron..ic agony belle of having the main control interface drilled and then injected costume painfully into the base of belle my belle skull. Do machines scream?
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