I set up two cameras—one in front to catch my face, one behind to watch my ass—as I straddle the thick silicone and sink down slowly. The front lens captures my gasp as I take it all, while the back view catches my hips rolling in deep, deliberate circles. I ride harder, grinding down then lifting up, watching my own expressions of pleasure while the rear camera records every stretch and clench. My rhythm turns desperate, bouncing faster as I chase my peak from both angles. I cry out and collapse forward, spent, knowing both lenses caught every tremor.
