Playboy Morning Show - Episode 478

They led Chris Klein through the doors like they had done it a thousand times. Andrea’s hand brushed the small of his back. Kevin poured three fingers of bourbon without asking, handed it over, and watched Chris take the first slow sip. Andrea wore black silk that clung when she moved and slipped when she didn’t. She stepped in close, tilted her chin, and kissed him—slow, deliberate, tasting the bourbon on his tongue. Kevin stood behind her, unzipped the dress one tooth at a time, and let the silk fall. She wore nothing underneath. Chris’s eyes dropped to her nipples, already tight, and Andrea smiled without shame. She took his hand and guided it between her thighs. Wet. Ready. She rocked once against his fingers, then turned to Kevin, undoing his belt while Chris stripped behind her. When Kevin’s cock sprang free she wrapped her hand around it, gave one lazy stroke, and bent forward at the waist. Chris pushed into her first. Thick, steady pressure, filling her inch by inch until his hips met her ass. Andrea gasped, low and genuine, then opened her mouth for Kevin. He slid past her lips, hit the back of her throat, and held there while Chris began to thrust. The rhythm found itself: Chris driving deep and sure, Kevin fucking her mouth with the same measured pace. Andrea’s hands braced on Kevin’s thighs. Spit trailed down her chin. Every time Chris bottomed out she moaned around Kevin’s cock, the sound vibrating straight through him. Kevin pulled free first, lifted her, and laid her on the wide leather sectional. She spread for him immediately. He sank in hard, one thrust, then another, while Chris moved to her mouth again. Andrea took him greedily, one hand cupping his balls, the other reaching back to pull Kevin deeper. They switched. Chris stretched her again, this time from behind while she rode Kevin’s face. Her thighs shook. She came once with a sharp cry, then again when Kevin flipped her onto her back and fucked her through it, relentless, until he spilled inside her with a low, guttural sound. Chris finished across her stomach, hot ropes that streaked up to her breasts. Andrea lay between them, breathing hard, skin flushed and marked. Kevin’s fingers traced lazy circles through the mess on her skin. No one spoke. The bourbon sat untouched on the table.