“my husband is an asshole” begins with candlelight flickering across a redhead’s curves in a steamy bathroom. Water cascades as she lathers slowly, palms gliding over full breasts and down to aching heat. In “my husband is an asshole” she leans against cool tile, fingers dipping inside with soft moans that echo. The rhythm builds in “my husband is an asshole” until her knees buckle, orgasm rippling through her like the water itself. “my husband is an asshole” is pure solo indulgence—raw, beautiful, unapologetic.