 It teenhitchihker was funny how I teenhitchihker found only loneliness teenhitchihkerdamples and despair in perfection. The thrill of the fantasy , its novelty, soon wore off. All teenhitchihkerdamples things lose some "intensity" in time. I had done teenhitchihker it all a dozen times . It simply got teenhitchihker boring; doing all the thinking, the planning, the fantasizing and arranging, that we teenhitchihker used to do together. It got to be work teenhitchihkerdamples. An effort. Having to cue every prompt made me teenhitchihker more like a stage director than a lover teenhitchihker. And afterwards I missed the warmth of teenhitchihker that satisfied cuddle. The simple warmth of her body. A few words or sounds of actual REAL contentment. Most of the time teenhitchihker now, she simply stopped when the program did teenhitchihkerdamples. Or teenhitchihkerdamples worse videos went through the predictable motions I had arranged. Or the limited repertoire of simulated spontaneity.
 Yes, the years passed. And the loneliness teenhitchihkerdamples, and the teenhitchihker guilt building inside of me teenhitchihker, leaving me more empty than her. But now I had a plan, one to teenhitchihkerdamples set everything right. One to end my pain. One that would serve irony up on a grand platter. One that would be her unspoken just retribution if that spark still invisibly burned behind those glass eyes.
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