Playboy Morning Show - Episode 410

Kevin’s laptop clicks open. Andrea slides onto his lap, thighs bare, nothing under that silk robe but skin. The webcam light blooms. Kennedy Summers grins at them from a hotel suite—Playmate of the Month, hair still damp from a shoot, nipples pressing against a white tank so thin it’s basically invitation. "Show me what you brought me," she murmurs, voice low and velvet. Kevin stands Andrea up, unties the robe. It slips off her shoulders and pools at her feet. Kennedy bites her lip, thumb brushing the screen like she could touch her. "Pretty cunt," she says. "Wet already?" Andrea turns, bends, spreads. Kevin runs two fingers down her slick seam, opens her for the camera. Kennedy’s hand disappears between her own legs; the angle on her side is deliberate—bare, waxed, glistening. "Fuck yourself for me," she tells Andrea. "Two fingers. Slow. Let me see how tight you are." Andrea obeys, knees trembling, hips rocking back into Kevin’s palm while she fucks herself exactly how Kennedy demands. The older woman’s breath hitches; her own fingers move faster now, wrist gleaming. Kevin unzips, frees his cock, lets it rest hot against Andrea’s ass so Kennedy can watch it twitch every time Andrea moans. "Stroke him," Kennedy orders. Andrea reaches back, fist closing around him. She jerks him against her skin in time with her own thrusting fingers. Kennedy’s eyes go heavy, lashes lowering. "Kevin—put it in her. All the way. Let me see her stretch." He pushes into Andrea in one smooth thrust, hips flush, balls tight. Andrea gasps, forehead against the desk. Kennedy watches the way her pussy grips him, the wet sounds loud even across the distance. "Harder," she whispers. "Make her come while I watch." Kevin fucks her steady, deep, each stroke grinding the head of his cock against that spot that makes Andrea shake. Kennedy’s breathing turns ragged, her own orgasm building in sync. She comes first—quiet, mouth open, thighs quivering—then talks Andrea through hers, voice gone husky: "Come on his cock, baby. Let me see it drip." Andrea shudders, clenches, floods around him. Kevin pulls out just in time to paint her ass in thick ropes that Kennedy studies like art. The three of them stay connected on the screen for a long, suspended moment—breathing, watching, smiling at the mess they’ve made together.