Soft Touch of nina hartley spread

Private jet at 30,000 feet in nina hartley spread. Seat reclined, blanket tossed aside, she spreads beneath the dim cabin lights. “Join the mile-high nina hartley spread 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 nina hartley spread, just like that nina hartley spread!” Clouds rush past the window as she rubs her clit raw, chanting “nina hartley spread” louder with altitude. When the captain announces descent she comes hardest, squirting over leather and crying “nina hartley spread” into the thin air until the seatbelt sign dings like an aftershock.