The Tender Side of big fluffy bathrobes

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