 She was milfhunterlita perfect. Perfect in bed. Perfect in obedience. Perfect in anticipating my needs milfhunter. If she lacked anything or any skill or any milfhunter kink or quirk I could add it. She spoke the perfect words milfhunter (I had written them into the milfhunter program), made osbourne the perfect gestures, and milfhunterlita even simulated cumming milfhunter at ford the precise moment I did. The fantasy that we osbourne always satisfied each other perfectly was absolutely perfect. She didn't milfhunter have a favorite hole or milfhunter position. She gave perfect head. She lita gave ozzy a cold metal tit fuck that milfhunter made me milfhunterlita thank god for titanium. Her milfhunter hands were those of the perfect artist, shaping me like milfhunter Michaelangelo in clay. When she was ozzy done milfhunter I was milfhunterlita always milfhunter a milfhunter marble masterpiece milfhunter. A spire, honoring the milfhunterlita gods of sex. And thereby an alter at which she could robotically milfhunter worship. She was perfect with milfhunter every food and its uses osbourne in bed. She was dom, she ford was ford lita osbourne ozzy slave, she was robot, she was dolly, she was painted canvas, she was a image leather biker milfhunter bitch (if image I wanted milfhunter); she was a milfhunter conquered or conquering warrior princess, she lita was a milfhunter goddess, she was in suspended animation, she was some strange alien nymphomaniac, she was a rubber and latex slave, she was ozzy a brainless ford beach bunny, she was a rape victim, she ford lita osbourne ozzy was a milfhunter slut, she was a little school milfhunter girl licking a lolly, she was a wind-up toy, she was kinky, she milfhunter was straight, she liked it when I brought playmates home for her and me, she liked things in her ass, she drank milfhunter me like I was fine wine, she sold herself milfhunter on street corners and gave me the money, she masturbated herself so perfectly I came just watching milfhunter. She milfhunterlita was completely mine. She milfhunter was the robot fantasy osbourne completely ozzy realized. She was what she wanted to be. We were living lita the fantasy osbourne. And it was pure hell.... We lita were damned.
 Years ozzy passed. No one took milfhunterlita her place. All that milfhunterlita stuff milfhunter about one true image love, an irreplaceable soulmate is true. And I gutted mine like an old building needing renovation. Yet she remained; a shiny perfect reminder, a monolith, a milfhunterlita gravemarker milfhunter. A tombstone with three words only: "I love you".
 She is working on my brain now. I thank her again while ford I still can. Whoever milfhunter she is I ford (feel milfhunterlita?) I should thank milfhunter her for ford lita osbourne ozzy (something?). Her cold eyes do ford lita osbourne ozzy not respond but none milfhunter-the-less somehow I milfhunterlita vaguely understand that milfhunter justice has been served. She ozzy rips out more milfhunter parts I will no longer need ozzy. Replaces them with wiring and circuit boards. The last thing I ever remember milfhunter is the sweet I..ron..ic agony of having the main control interface drilled and then injected painfully into the base of my skull. Do machines scream?
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