Playboy Morning Show - Episode 62

Kevin and Andrea tore the plastic off the magazine and the Playmate of the Year spread spread across the table like a dare. Their eyes moved over the glossies, then flicked back to each other. Somewhere beyond the pool deck a grill hissed. They drifted toward the truck, drawn by the smell of char and dripping fat. Kevin ordered two thick links, and Andrea popped the cap on a cold bottle of beer. Juice ran down his thumb. She caught it with her tongue, slow, teasing, the magazine still tucked under her arm. By the time they found a quiet patch of grass, the centerfold was open between them. She tore a piece of sausage free with her teeth, fed him the rest, lips brushing knuckles. A drop of grease slid down her wrist; he licked it away, tasting salt and warm skin. The paper rustled under their knees as she climbed into his lap, knees bracketing his hips. His hand slid under her thin cotton skirt, found nothing but heat. She rocked against him, the corner of the magazine catching the edge of his belt buckle, the pages wrinkling with every slow grind. The truck’s music drifted over, half-drowned by the low wet sounds of their mouths meeting again and again.