Playboy Morning Show - Episode 87

Kevin and Andrea welcomed Jason Hervey onto the set. The former child star turned producer had made a tidy fortune bankrolling “The Catalina,” and he carried himself with the easy confidence of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. They shook hands, voices low, eyes already drifting lower than politeness allowed. Andrea slipped her dress off one shoulder, let it fall in a slow hush around her bare feet. She looked at Jason without blinking. “How about we turn the cameras on and play something better than small talk?” Kevin tossed a putter across the green felt rug and said, “Putting for Poon. One stroke per hole. Miss and you lose a piece of clothing. Make it and you choose whose mouth you want.” Jason laughed once, sharp, then licked his bottom lip. Andrea bent to place the ball, breasts swaying, nipples already tight in the cool studio air. Kevin stood behind her, hands on her hips, guiding the club between her thighs. The head of the putter brushed the inside of her knee; she shivered, pressed back against the growing line of his cock. The first putt rolled true. Andrea smiled, straightened, and peeled Jason’s shirt away. Her nails raked down his chest, leaving faint pink trails. Next round, Jason missed on purpose. His trousers hit the floor. His cock rose hard and heavy, flushed at the tip. Andrea sank to her knees without waiting, took him into her mouth in one smooth glide until her nose met the neat patch of hair at the base. Kevin watched, stroking himself in lazy pulls, the head of his cock glistening each time his fist reached the crown. She worked Jason until his stomach tightened, then pulled off with a wet pop and turned the putter on Kevin. Kevin sank his shot. Andrea rewarded him by climbing onto the green felt, ass lifted, thighs parted. Kevin knelt behind her, pressed the thick head of his cock against her slick entrance, and pushed in until his hips met the soft curve of her ass. Jason stepped forward and fed his length back between her lips. The rhythm found itself: Kevin drove into her from behind, each thrust pushing her forward onto Jason’s cock until she gagged prettily and moaned around the stretch. Sweat gathered in the small of her back. Her breasts swung beneath her in time with the fucking. Kevin reached around, found her clit with two fingers, rubbed tight circles until her thighs trembled and her pussy clenched around him in short, greedy pulses. Jason pulled free of her mouth, painted her lips with a single hot stripe of come, then smeared it across her tongue with the head of his cock. Andrea swallowed, eyes glassy, and Kevin followed seconds later, burying himself deep and pulsing inside her until the mix of them leaked down her thighs. They stayed like that for a breath—three bodies locked, breathing hard—until Kevin eased out and Andrea rolled onto her back, legs open, cunt glistening in the bright studio lights. Jason set the putter down, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and grinned. “Rematch tomorrow?”