She gestures to the typewriter, “Why do you insist on using this old thing?”

“The clicking gets me going.”

She unbuttons the front of her summer dress. “I thought I got you going.” She pushes her companion down and straddles them.

“Yes, but I’m always ready for you.” They gesture to their crotch as she grinds against the hard plastic phallus, their breasts bound as hers bounce before her eyes.

She slides the phallus in and moans, nobody ever gets her going quite like this.

They make love in the sun. She passes them the camera.

Click.

They go again.