Wine on Lips, Cock in Throat

The vineyard estate glowed under strings of golden lights, the air thick with the scent of crushed grapes and summer night. It was a private Dionysus-themed tasting event masks, flowing robes, and endless pours of deep red wine. I’d come alone, expecting good vintages and decent conversation. I didn’t expect her.

She was dressed like a modern maenad: a loose white chiton that barely reached mid-thigh, grape leaves woven into her wild dark curls, and a mischievous smile painted deep burgundy. Her name was Selene. She handed me a fresh glass before I even asked.

“Drink,” she said, voice low and playful. “Tonight we honor Dionysus properly. No rules. Only pleasure.”

We wandered the terraced gardens together, sipping vintage after vintage. Each glass made her laugh easier, her touches bolder. By the third pour, her fingers traced the edge of my jaw. By the fifth, she was whispering against my ear.

“I’ve been watching you,” she confessed, eyes sparkling. “You look like you could use a proper offering to the god.”

We slipped away from the main party, down a lantern-lit path to a small stone pavilion hidden among the vines. Moonlight spilled across the marble, and a half-empty bottle of rich Syrah waited on a low table. Selene poured two glasses, then pressed one into my hand.

“Take a sip,” she ordered softly, “then hold it in your mouth.”

I did. The wine was velvet and spice. Before I could swallow, she sank to her knees in front of me, looking up with those dark, hungry eyes. She tugged my belt open, freed my already hardening cock, and smiled like she’d just discovered ambrosia.

“Keep the wine on your tongue,” she whispered, then parted her burgundy lips and took me in.

The heat of her mouth mixed with the cool wine still on my tongue was unreal. She swirled her tongue around the head, letting the Syrah coat me, then pulled back so I could finally swallow. A thin red string of wine and saliva connected her lower lip to my glistening cock.

“Fuck… Selene,” I groaned.

She laughed, low and throaty. “Dionysus likes his offerings wet and messy.”

She dove back down, taking me deeper this time. Her lips, stained dark with wine, stretched around my shaft as she bobbed slowly, deliberately. Every few strokes she’d pull off, take a sip from her glass, then return with a mouthful of wine, swirling it around my cock while she sucked. The sensation — warm mouth, cool wine, her eager tongue — made my knees weak.

“You taste better than any vintage here,” she murmured between long, sloppy licks along my length. “Thick. Warm. Addictive.”

I threaded my fingers through her hair, careful not to mess up the grape leaves, but she grabbed my wrist and pushed my hand down harder.

“Don’t be gentle,” she said, eyes gleaming. “I want you to fuck my throat like a true follower of the god, wild, unrestrained.”

That was all the permission I needed. I gripped her curls and thrust forward. She moaned loudly around my cock, the vibration shooting straight through me. Her throat opened beautifully, taking me deep until her nose pressed against my stomach. Wine and spit ran down her chin, dripping onto her white chiton and turning the fabric translucent over her hard nipples.

“Goddamn, your mouth is perfect,” I growled, pumping steadily. “Look at you, on your knees, choking on cock and wine like a filthy little maenad.”

She pulled off just long enough to gasp, “Then use me like one. Fill my throat. Let me drink you down.”

I didn’t hold back. I fucked her mouth with long, deep strokes while she looked up at me, mascara slightly smudged, lips swollen and shining. Every time I pulled back she’d swirl her tongue around the head, sucking hard, then plunge down again until I felt her throat constrict around me.

Between gasps she kept talking, voice hoarse and dripping with lust. “You’re so fucking hard… throbbing on my tongue. I want your cum. I want to taste how much the god approves of this offering.”

The wet, obscene sounds of her sucking mixed with the distant laughter from the main party. The risk of someone wandering down the path only made it hotter. Selene reached between her own thighs, rubbing herself through her soaked panties while she worshipped my cock.

I pulled her up briefly, kissing her hard. Her mouth tasted like wine and me. Then I pushed her back down.

“Open wide, baby. I’m close.”

She moaned in delight and relaxed her throat completely. I held her head and fucked her face with short, urgent thrusts. Her eyes watered but never left mine. One hand cupped my balls, gently massaging as she urged me on.

“Cum for me,” she begged between strokes, voice raspy. “Paint my tongue. Let me swallow every drop like good wine.”

The pressure built fast. I groaned her name as my orgasm crashed over me. The first thick rope shot straight down her throat. She swallowed greedily, then pulled back just enough so the next pulses landed on her tongue. She kept her mouth open, showing me the creamy load mixed with dark red wine before she closed her lips and drank it all down with an exaggerated, satisfied moan.

“Mmm… best vintage of the night,” she purred, licking her lips.

She wasn’t finished. Even as I softened slightly, she kept me in her mouth, gentle licks and kisses, coaxing me back to full hardness. “We’re not done honoring Dionysus yet,” she teased. “I want you to fuck my face again after that next glass.”

We passed the bottle back and forth. She took a long drink, then deepthroated me again with a fresh mouthful of wine. This time she was even sloppier — spit and wine running freely down her chin, onto her tits, soaking the thin fabric until she might as well have been naked.

I lost count of how many times she brought me to the edge and backed off, only to start again. At one point she had me sit on the marble bench while she knelt between my spread thighs, working me with long, luxurious strokes of her tongue and throat until I came a second time. She swallowed most of it, but let a little drip down her chin so she could catch it with her fingers and lick them clean while staring into my eyes.

By the time we finally returned to the party, her chiton was stained with wine and my cum, her lipstick was gone, and her voice had that deliciously fucked-out rasp. She pressed one last kiss to my lips, letting me taste myself on her tongue.

“Come back next month,” she whispered. “We’ll bring a better bottle… and I’ll drink you under the stars again.”

I watched her disappear into the crowd, hips swaying, grape leaves still somehow perfect in her hair.

Best wine tasting I’d ever attended.