The tap, tap, tap on the keys,
That sweet sound, like a lullaby,
Drumming out the wanton words,
Shameful, sultry, sentence after sentence.
Drawing the sweet, innocent
And downright dirty inside.
Where they squeeze, squirm and shudder,
Deep within their psyche,
As they lie, sit or stand.
A rhythm kept in time, 
With the light, camera, action
Of a screenshot before the never blinking eyes.

Girl with the naughty fingers,
The desperate housewives,
All those exotic girls 1,2,3.
Served up on high, or low,
Or indeed any other temptation.
Something new, maybe?
A naughty nightmare inside,
Until the point of no return.
Butter and melt came to mind,
That never to be forgotten smile,
Beams radiant from rosy red lips poised to,
Suck, lick, and play for your pleasure.