I was a long way from consciously doing anything for myself. Instead I was simply obeying a minor directive in my core programming to keep a record of...all my important experiences. Since I didn't know what was important and what wasn't, I kept everything.At night, when no one else came for my services, I automatically entered simulated sleep mode that serves two purposes.First it gives me time to compress the memories of the last day down to something manageable. I now know that I was created. I kept breathing into her hear as her body stiffened. “this is what you need slut, you need to be used like a no good whore, don’t you?” “yes sir” is all she could muster. I instructed her to stand up, she instinctively did and put her hands behind her. I stood in front of her, in her personal space, first pinching her nipples while she stared into space, then I lowered my right hand into her sport legging. Slut jumped up and whisperred “please sir, no, please” just as my index finger rubbed. After 2 hours i waked up and said her to wear the dress. i helped her to wear the bra and panties. she prepared a tea for me. she brought me the tea . i pushed her near me and gave her a deep lip kiss. i made her to drink the tea and i kissed her mouth and drank some tea from her mouth.This first sex was a very memorable experience in my life.We were waiting for the second one. one day one of my distance relative died so my dad and mom started and went for the funeral. it was three pleasent. At 37, she still looks great: short, shoulder-length jet-black hair, hazel eyes, and full, pouty lips. Her 36C breasts I had implanted into her 20 years ago were still firm and high, and she carried her 26-inch waist attractively. "Hi, Steve," she said, taking off her jacket to reveal a light yellow cotton blouse. It was clear she wasn't wearing a bra. She never does on these visits. She knows what she's here for."Okay, Steve, let's get on with it." She never calls me "Dad" at the start of.