The slow, taking-her-time quality of it. Her tongue running the length of him as he hardened fully under the attention, the thick, veined, growing weight of his cock filling her mouth with the familiar, Veronica-has-been-here-before quality of a location she had visited often enough to have strong opinions about.
She pulled off with a long, slow lick from base to tip — the ice-cream quality of it, taking her time, making sure every surface got appropriate attention.
Frau Müller, on the table, heard the sounds.
The wet, distinctive quality of a mouth working around something. The quiet. The soft, occasional sound of Veronica's throat.
"Are you—" She turned her face toward the sounds. "Veronica, are you alright?"
"Mm." Veronica pulled off long enough to answer. "More than alright. Don't worry about me."
The sounds continued.
