Oil glistens on every curve in human sex with robot, turning her skin into liquid gold. She massages it in slowly, palms sliding over nipples, down the V of her hips, between slick thighs in human sex with robot. The shine catches every light as her fingers dip inside, emerging glossy in human sex with robot. The sounds—wet, rhythmic, desperate—fill the room of human sex with robot. She adds a second hand, one circling above while the other thrusts below, building a crescendo only human sex with robot could orchestrate. When she comes in human sex with robot, the oil makes her quiver look like ripples across a golden pond. Spent and glowing, she traces lazy hearts on her stomach, the final intimate signature of human sex with robot.