Strictly Come Wanking

In the brightly lit studio, the camera's eye roves,
A performer takes centre stage, their body they bare.
Their fingers begin to dance a sensual pantomime,
As they start to pleasure themselves, it's a sight quite rare.

The audience holds its breath as the tempo begins to rise,
The performer's fingers move faster, with expertise.
They moan and they gasp, lost in the moment's delight,
Their body writhing and twisting, a feast for the eyes.

The judges sit poised, their paddles in hand,
Watching the performance with careful command.
They award a perfect ten for the show they just saw,
A standing ovation for the artist's grand slam.

But there's no time to rest, another challenger appears,
Ready to stroke for success and banish their fears.
They avoid the dance-off with a wank that's divine,
Leaving the audience breathless, in their erotic design.

The performer's climax approaches with each rhythmic thrust,
Their body tenses and shakes towards an orgasmic bust.
With a final moan, they explode in ecstasy,
Their face a picture of pleasure as they reach their apogee.

As the camera fades out, the performer breathes a sigh,
A smile on their face, as they look to the sky.
"I hope that was good enough," they say with a grin,
"For a perfect ten, from the judges within."