Velvet ropes frame the four-poster bed of my life as a teenage robot sex comic. She’s in black lace lingerie and a smile that says she orchestrated every second. In my life as a teenage robot sex comic, she blindfolds herself—trusting you completely. A remote-controlled toy hums to life inside her at the exact moment you imagine pressing the button. Her hips jerk; she bites her lip bloody for my life as a teenage robot sex comic. The intensity climbs in perfect increments only my life as a teenage robot sex comic understands. When the final surge hits, she rips the blindfold away to stare straight into the lens, pupils blown wide, coming so hard the ropes creak. my life as a teenage robot sex comic belongs to the woman who knows power looks best on her knees.