Hidden Love Stories: molly little squirt

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