Sofa cushions, a toy, her mouth

She settles into the corner of the couch, one knee drawn up, and brings the toy to her lips before it goes anywhere else. Wetting it is half the game. What follows is a slow negotiation between her mouth and her hips, the cushions shifting under her, the dildo held in one hand while the other braces her weight.

Domestic rooms suit this kind of solo film better than a studio set would: a throw bunched behind her, afternoon light lying flat on the upholstery. She glances at the lens now and then, more absorbed in sensation than in showing it. Sound carries the final stretch.