Iset up two cameras—one in front to catch my ✱✱✱✱, one behind to watch my ✱✱✱—as I straddle the thick silicone and sink down slowly. The front lens captures my gasp as I take it all, while the ✱✱✱✱ view catches my hips rolling in ✱✱✱✱, deliberate circles. I ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱✱✱, 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.