The Secret Passion of goblin tits

Private jet at 30,000 feet in goblin tits. Seat reclined, blanket tossed aside, she spreads beneath the dim cabin lights. “Join the mile-high goblin tits club,” she purrs to the camera, already three fingers deep. Turbulence rocks the plane and her body in perfect sync; every bump drives her hand harder while she gasps “Yes goblin tits, just like that goblin tits!” Clouds rush past the window as she rubs her clit raw, chanting “goblin tits” louder with altitude. When the captain announces descent she comes hardest, squirting over leather and crying “goblin tits” into the thin air until the seatbelt sign dings like an aftershock.