In what has become a solstice ritual, I board the noontime train for Moravia. My annual journey to taste the new wine is a trip into the past. As the train leaves the grimy suburbs and climbs into the hills, the verdant fields and lush forests recall an age when the earth was younger. Stepping onto the platform in ?ejkovice, I find the village of stucco cottages unchanged from my first visit, more than thirty years ago.
I remember the shy, awkward academic I was then, seeking relief from the pressures of my work, brimming with unacknowledged passions. I smile to myself, feeling that young man stir inside me. My smile broadens at the sight of Eva awaiting me in the doorway of my guest house.
"Good afternoon, and welcome, Professor." She insists on taking my bag, deliberately brushing her full bosom against me in the process. There is nothing subtle about Eva. "You have your usual room, of course. There is just time to freshen up before supper."
Knowing that I'll follow, she briskly leads the way up the rough wooden stairs. Her swaying hips mesmerize me, charmer to my rising snake. The door at the end of the hall is open, showing me the high bed with its eider quilt, the worn leather of the armchair by the window, the vineyards misty in the distance, gilded by the setting sun.
Eva drops my suitcase near the window and sinks down on the bed. She pats the spot beside her. "Come here, Professor. Tell me how you are." Her cheeks are flushed; her eyes sparkle with mischief. She can see how I am, already engorged in anticipation of delights to come.
She reminds me so much of Zuzana. Never mind that Eva wears a tight pink tee and jeans instead of her mother's blouse and dirndl. She has the same voluptuous exuberance, life full to the brim and overflowing in her. The same extravagant nipples poke coyly through her shirt. The same ripe lips curve in invitation. The years slip away and I see myself, standing gangly and confused in this same room, breathless at the sight of the luscious Zuzana calmly removing her clothes.
I shake my head to dispel these visions and turn away from Eva briefly to close the door. I turn back to find her kneeling before me, already reaching for my belt. Eagerly, she unbuttons my trousers and pulls down the zip. My penis springs out, grateful for its release from captivity. Before I can even say "new wine", her mouth closes hotly on my engorged rod and sucks like a child on a lollipop. A moan escapes me.
"Please, my dear girl ... not so fast. You'll finish me too soon."
She gazes up at me, licking her lips. "But you taste so lovely. Better than ever." She bends and plants a proprietary kiss on my rosy knob. My old flesh shimmers in response, threatening to dissolve.
Why does she offer herself to me this way? Does she view it as her role, as mistress of the inn, to provide this unusual hospitality? I did not understand her mother's generosity, and with Eva it is even more mysterious, this abundance that she showers on a dry old man. She swirls her agile tongue once more around my rod, and I forget to wonder, but merely accept.
"I have a special treat for you, Professor." Her voice, when her mouth finally relinquishes me, is husky with lust.
Her fluid energy as she rises almost breaks my heart. With one swift move, she pulls her jersey over her head. Her breasts cry out to be caressed. My palms tingle as I shape them in my mind. She beckons me over to the bed, and points to an earthenware pitcher on the bedside table.
"The official tasting doesn't begin until tomorrow, but I bribed cousin Martin to get a sample tonight. Just for you." Without waiting for a response, she unbuttons her trousers, pulls them down to her ankles and kicks them away. She is, of course, naked underneath. "Now come here, Professor!" she exclaims, hands on her hips in mock anger. "Whatever are you waiting for?"
I can't help but speculate about the currency of Eva's transaction with Martin, but I push that thought away. In a moment I am standing before her, cupping her fullness while I kiss her deeply. Her skin is silk and cream. She tastes of lemon and anise from her baking.
I trap a provocative nipples between my fingers and squeeze, knowing that she enjoys a rough touch there. Her hands find their way back to my organ. She strokes me in time with the rhythm I strum on her breasts. I pinch her harder, struggling to maintain control.
Before long she is moaning, pressing her furred pelvis up against me. I slip an exploratory finger into the crevice between her thighs and am rewarded by lush wetness. I flick my fingernail across the rigid button of flesh that is the center of her pleasure. "Oh, darling!" she cries, writhing against my hand. "You are too wonderful."
Suddenly she pulls away from me. "But you nearly make me forget. The wine." Her eyes fixed on mine, she raises the flower-painted pitcher above her head and pours from it into her mouth, like a fountain in some town square. A darkly fruity scent fills the room. The garnet liquid spills into her mouth, over her lips, down across her breasts. Rivulets of wine drift across her belly and disappear into the thicket of her pubic hair.
I lick my lips.
"Come, taste the wine, Professor." She lies back on the bed and opens herself to me. Her whorled folds are rose and coral, lighter than the wine that hangs in iridescent drops in her hair.
Her lewd beauty holds me transfixed for a moment. I want to keep the memory of this summer wantonness forever, stored away in reserve for the inevitable winter. Then the moment passes and I'm on my knees before her, a bit stiff but as enthusiastic as any boy, burying my mouth in her sex.
The sweetness of the wine mingles strangely and delightfully with her oceany woman flavor. I relish the way her flesh trembles under my tongue as I lick her firmly from her apex to her rear hole. Taking a mouthful of her pubic hair, I suck the wine out of it. I can tell from the twist in her hips that she likes this game.
She grabs hold of her thighs and tries to pull them further apart, offering me better access. A bit of ruby liquid is pooled in her anus. I lick it up. She jerks against me. I gradually insinuate the tip of my tongue into that dark rosette. She groans and shudders under my gentle assault. Her heated scent rises around us, wild jungle invading the ordered Czech countryside. She writhes, growling like some exotic animal.
Her sudden climax surprises me, as it always does. One instant she is thrashing wildly, moaning and murmuring endearments. The next, her body goes rigid and begins to vibrate like some heavenly instrument, her voice rising to a keen that barely sounds human. She shudders there on the peak for half a dozen breaths, then abruptly relaxes, releasing her salty flow to my eager tongue.
I continue to lick her as she sinks back into herself. My penis throbs deeply like thunder in the distance. Still, I feel no urgency. Drinking the divine combination of her juices and the juice of the grape, I know that I have received a great gift.
Finally she stirs and sits up. Her azure eyes are bright with humor and affection as she kisses me. "Thank you, good Professor. You always treat me so well."
"No, I am the one who should be grateful, Eva. Now, how about drawing me a bath?"
"But Professor," she says slyly. "The pitcher is not yet empty." Before I can stop her, she decants the remaining wine over my rampant erection, and then sinks down to tongue it away.
I feel the seed rising in my stalk, slow and irresistible as the sun rising on a summer morning. Eva senses my imminence and swallows me completely. I am washed in bliss, yet somehow acutely aware of my surroundings, too: the ageless comfort of the room, the last rays of sunset gilding her bare shoulders, the aromatic evening breeze with its hints of new-mown grass and fermented grapes.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the armoire mirror. My gray hair is golden in the sun's waning rays. My limbs are slender rather than scrawny. A lightness fills me, joy bubbling through me, a fine intoxication. As I pour myself into Eva's welcoming mouth, I think that perhaps summer may not end after all.