Three months of absolute drought will make a woman do things she’d normally consider beneath her.

I laid back on the sheets, completely naked, staring up at the ceiling fan while my hand worked lazily between my thighs.

My skin was slick with coconut oil, glowing under the hue of my bedside lamp. Beside me, my phone propped up against a stack of hardcover books, the camera angled straight down at the wet slit parted wide.

I had been dating Tristan for over two years, and somewhere along the ...