I looked into the face of my enemy, the face of rage continuing to scream, ‘Die David! I hate you! I will kill you!” The voice struck deep insi...e of me…something deeply familiar. The bot continued to squirm in my grip. I looked deep into its human eyes! The rage and hatred was real. I allowed my guard to slip and the bot knocked me flat on the ground. Straddling my body the bot held both arms together, merging them into one large spike. Looking up at this bot…I saw it was real looking,. As it sank into her, she felt her rectum shift around the bulbous shaft, her sphincter tightening again around smaller base, pain and pleasure mingling, dueling. A new, alien feeling, fullness like this, stretching her open. She felt it pressed tight against her anal walls, crowded against her fingers inside her as she groped, pressing down against her small, interior knots of flesh, frantic. ‘Concentrate, Joyce.’ He whispered, pushing her over the edge. Her mind reeled, conflicting thoughts. The a/c was busted but the New England weather was cooler than normal for late May. The fluorescent light over the bathroom sink was hanging loose and not working so doing my make up would be a little challenging in the morning. I went home and got a good night sleep.I arrived back at the motel around 7 am on a friday morning. I had my "getting ready to whore ritual" down to about 45 min- an hour or so. I would hook up my laptop to the t.v and play a loop of many short tranny vids I downloaded,. I wondered what Sia would look like in panties and bra, my imagination very active. Did her clothes hide unseen curves? She was a late bloomer, most of her friends well along in adolescence. She’d inherited it from her mother; that same willowy figure, small bust, petite stature - fourteen years old and not quite five feet tall. True, her five feet had as much sass as any five-nine woman, maybe more.I wondered what type of bra and panties she had. In the last two years, she’d assumed the.
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