I couldn’t stop rubbing them, touching them, getting so close to her hot, wet, cunt. That massive, massive cunt. lips like their male equivalent wou...d be a 12 incher. Those lips on that tiny, tight little hole… her pink, clear space between that and her tiny asshole, I wanted to lick it. I was rubbing her legs and I got myself hard again, so we fucked in the morning. That was every morning with her. I couldn’t affectionately rub her thighs or back good night or good morning without springing. Something about that entire concept felt wrong, too deviant, even when masturbating it was her own human hand controlling the inanimate object. It wasn’t programmed to satisfy her, it didn’t move on its’ own. Although she could count that as one of her nights, she was not convinced that it was something she wanted to experience. Different positions went without saying. She couldn’t just lie on her back and be fucked missionary style one thousand and one times. Different locations, that one was. More

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