Black for Veronika

Veronika bites her lip like she just spilled the juiciest secret at brunch. "I’ve never had a black guy," she admits, cheeks burning. Then that grin spreads—slow, wicked. She wants to spoil him with her mouth, her hands, her feet. The whole menu. She’s already got a thick chocolate dildo waiting on the nightstand. Practicing, she calls it. She drops to her knees, mouth wet and eager, sliding the toy between her lips till her eyes water. Hands pump the shaft in a steady rhythm while her bare feet kick back, soft soles flexing like they’re getting ideas of their own. Every slurp, every glide is dress rehearsal for the real thing—whenever it decides to walk through her door.