Which as my readers know, I like attractive old ladies who like sex, and Lorraine did not cross me as that type. Anyway, it was her turn to choose the...next book and she chose a title called ‘Ladies who say no’. A weird title and it was first published in the Victorian era. Somehow she got hold of some copies and gave them to us.I was so intrigued I asked her why she chose it. She explained that in that era, they were very repressed and sexual relations were never mentioned. She made us laugh by. . who are you?”“Miranda class interface protocol, version 8.3.1.”He understood maybe half of those words. “W-Where am I?”“R&D Center 43.”“Forty three? How many R&D centers are there?” And what did R&D mean? He could ask that later.“Classified, Alpha clearance only. Number in designation does not indicate amount.”“Um, ok, um ... uh...” He was talking to a ... a machine? “Are you ... are you alive?”“Miranda class interface protocol, version 8.3.1.”“I know! But, are you ... um ... can you. I always got home tired, ate something showered and went to sleep. But the moment I was quiet with just myself — my thoughts drifted back to the old history, the history I was trying to forget. This happened every night without exception. I slept less and less, and I started feeling the effects in class. I started dozing off during class.Half a year after school started, the dean called me to his office."My offer for free therapy is still open. I have received reports that you are on a long. My cute, naughty daughter came on my thigh.Her hot juices bathed my leg. I shuddered, squirming with her as she whimpered and shook. She kissed me on the mouth. Her tongue thrust past my lips. Even without my futa-dick, my daughter ached for my body, wanting to please me.And when I had a cock, she was married to it, fluffing me, keeping me hard, guzzling down so much cum today she didn’t even eat dinner.“I’m just so full of your yummy cream,” she grinned at me when we got home from the studio.I.