Wine Tasting

My name's Bianca, and I'm a 21-year-old future vintner. Yes, as bizarre as most of my friends and family back home thought it was, I had always wanted to make wine. A few years back, I had packed up, left home (the midwest), and moved out to California, where I was now studying. My studies were twofold. I was enrolled in a viticulture program at the university, earning some credentials, and also had a job at a small winery, earning some experience.

My job at the winery included anything and everything that the owners needed - which sometimes meant actually working with with the grapes, but other times, like today, just keeping the tasting room and shop going. These were my least favorite days. The endless stream of young couples from the city, who knew nothing about wine, except that it was supposed to be romantic to take your date out wine-tasting. The occasional wine snob who would treat me like I knew nothing and talk my ear off about the biz. The tourists who stopped just to use the restroom or ask for directions.

But I'd always sigh, suck it up, and put on my helpful customer service face, knowing that this was all good experience that would serve me in the future, when I someday owned my own winery! So anyway, today was one of those days. 78 and sunny, a peaceful breeze, and a steady stream of customers. By about four in the afternoon, with a couple of hours to go before I could close, I was getting hot and weary of the rush of ignorant people. And I had only sold two bottles of wine, in spite of the innumerable bottles I'd opened for tasting.

And then he came in. I recognized him immediately, even though he had aged a bit from his press picture that I was so familiar with. See, he was a bit of a celebrity in the world of wine, a writer who had made a name for himself as a knowledgeable connoisseur who was interested in making good wine more accessible to the masses. He had recently written a best-selling book which aimed to explain the world of wine - from the difference between red and white to the finer points of tasting and food-matching - to the average man on the street.

And because I was such a wine geek, I had read the book cover to cover, and was so impressed that I also had been following his blog online and his occasional features in newspapers or magazines. As I read his work, I always found myself thinking that he was the kind of man I wanted to be with, in spite of the fact that he was at least 20 years older than I was. He was educated, cultured, sophisticated - but also down-to-earth, not afraid to go all-out when it really counts. Most men I found, it seemed, offered one but not the other.

Still in my world of daydreams as he approached me, I'm sure I blushed as he introduced himself.

"Hello there, my name is Jeff..."

"Yes, sir, I know who you are! I'm familiar with all your work. What an honor to have you here in the shop!" I knew I was babbling like an idiot, but couldn't seem to stop myself. "My name is Bianca. See, my parents met during a production of 'Othello' and couldn't help but give me a Shakespearean name. But, I'm sorry, you probably don't care about that, what brings you to California?"

Smiling, obviously charmed rather than irritated by my babbling, he replied, "Bianca? Well, it could have been worse. They could have named you Desdemona, and that really would have been a curse, don't you think?"

I couldn't help but giggle, and then blushed again as I caught myself checking him out as he talked to me.

"But anyway, what brings me to California is that I'm putting together another book. After the success of my first, which you're obviously familiar with, I thought I'd attack another project, this time about white wines in California."

"Oh, what a great idea! I was so inspired by your column last year about sauvignon blanc - I never used to drink whites myself, but after what you wrote about pairing the blanc with seafood, especially when served with garlic and parsley, I'm hooked!"

Pulling myself back from gawking schoolgirl to winery professional for a moment, I asked if he'd like to try our blanc, which was really quite good.

He agreed, and as he began sampling a few of the winery's selections, I babbled at him again. "I've actually made use of your book for my work here. When I have a particularly clueless customer, I use your advice about how to taste to make them feel more at home."

"Ah, you mean the simple steps - color, aroma, taste, finish." His piercing blue eyes met mine as he spoke, methodically tasting, sipping in between each phrase. He was really quite handsome - a bit more gray hair than his picture, which only served to add distinction to his remarkably fit, well-dressed mid-40s persona.

I watched his expressive hands as he continued to taste and share his comments about the wines, and could feel myself blushing again. I was imagining those hands covering my body, tracing the line of my breasts, working up my inner thigh. Just as I caught myself, brought myself back to the here and now, I realized he was on the same page.

"So, tasting always begins with studying the color of the wine. Judging by your color right now, you find me attractive and you're having trouble focusing on the wine."

As I blushed even hotter at his remark, he walked a few steps towards me, pulling in close and looking down into my face as he continued, "And then we take in the wine's aroma. Yours tells me that you're already wet and ready for action."

Before he could go on, I put a finger to his lips, signaling that I could take it from there. Quoting from his book, but in a sexy new context, I said to him, "Next, there's a real difference between just swallowing and actually tasting - it's all in the technique.

Dropping to my knees in front of him as he unzipped his pants, I slowly took his cock into my mouth. Applying his theories of successful wine-tasting to my cock-sucking technique, I aimed to please. I began slowly, taking my time and making sure that I explored every inch of his length with every part of my tongue. As he put it in his book, the inside of the mouth and throat can each detect different aspects of the wine... or cock...

As soon as I had taken his entire length into my mouth, and bottomed out with his cock was deep in my throat, he gently took hold of my long blond hair, formed it into a ponytail, and began moving my head back and forth as he fucked my mouth. Technique quickly went out the window as I succumbed to his control, and his thrusts came faster and harder. I cupped his balls in my hands, rolling them gently in contrast to his quick fucking, and this seemed to bring him even closer to the brink of ecstasy.

Before long, he began bucking his hips more wildly, and I knew he was close to cumming. Committed to the sexiness of the wine-tasting scenario, I was determined to swallow every drop of his cum. He cried out - jeez, we were lucky that no other customers had entered the store! - and shot his load, and I did indeed manage to keep it all in my mouth, savoring the flavor before swallowing.

I stood up, and with the most serious look I could manage, said "Quite an outstanding blend of sweet and salty flavors, obviously a very good vintage!"

He smiled, reached down, and pulled my sundress up and over my head, leaving me in just my bra and panties. Just in case anyone did come into the shop, I took his hand and led him through a door into the office, shut the door, and promptly slithered out of my panties while he unhooked my bra and began kneading my tits.

I pulled in closer to him, took his half-hard cock in my hands, and stroked it against my pussy lips. In case this wasn't a strong enough hint, I hissed at him, "I want you to fuck me, right here, right now!"

Jeff responded instantly, lifting me up in a smooth easy motion, and lowering me down onto his cock. As I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, he began pushing into me slowly and gently. Adding to the wonderful feeling of weightlessness, he took one of my tits into his mouth and began sucking my nipple as he fucked me - a delightful combination of sensations that soon had me moaning with pleasure.

Before long, though, we both longed for deeper penetration and more intensity. He lowered me down to the floor, and I walked across the room to the big desk, a computer on one side and a few bottles of wine on the other. I shoved aside a few papers, put my forearms down on the desk, and spread my legs for him, looking back over my shoulder invitingly.

He reached me in just a few quick strides, and thrust powerfully into my tight pussy with one smooth motion. Once there, filling me completely, he began a fast and furious fucking, reaching both hands around my torso to play, alternately, with my clit and my tits. Once this became more effort than he could manage as he approached another orgasm, he simply grabbed my hair again and used it to drive my motions back and forth on his pulsing cock.

"Are you ready, Bianca? I want to cum with you, so I need you to tell me when you're ready, OK?"

"I'm almost there, Jeff. Oh, god yes, I love your cock inside me. Fuck me harder, and stroke my clit again!"

He quickly responded, bringing one hand around to massage my clit with one finger as he pounded into me from behind, doggy style. After just a few moments, I was ready. "Yes, Jeff, that's it, I'm going to cummmmmm!!!"

"Oh, god, Bianca, I'm cumming too. Yes, yes, yesssssssss!"

He collapsed on top of me, both of us panting, spent with sexual exertion. We gradually recovered ourselves, found our clothes and dressed, and made our way back to the main room of the shop. I looked up at the clock and realized that it was late enough for me to close. Seeing me do this, he asked, "So, this isn't usually the order of events, but would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

"I'd love to! Perhaps some seafood with sauvignon blanc?"

"Well, after that workout, I think I'm more in the mood for a steak and a hearty cabernet. Hell, maybe even a beer."