Читать книгу Hard At Work - Brad Saunders - Страница 10

As a writer, I cover everything from current events to art history to food and wine. Basically I am a curious person, and that helps you when you’re a writer since you always want to get to the bottom of everything, so to speak.

While I lived in Los Angeles, I wrote a lot about the food scene, and because it was California, wine played a major part of what I talked about. That was just fine by me, since I am an avid oenophile, and I often plan entire trips around wine-tasting. Living in California was like heaven since I could visit so many different wine regions in my own state. While I lived there, I hit all the big ones, like Napa, Sonoma, and Santa Barbara, and even some of the lesser known regions, like Lodi, and Temecula, which is in the high desert near Palm Springs.

The most memorable trip by far, however, was a road trip I took, à la Sideways to the Santa Ynez Valley north of Santa Barbara. It’s home to some major appellations like the Santa Rita Hills, as well as iconic wine towns like Los Olivos and the Danish-themed Solvang.

I only had a few days, but I made the most of them since the two wines the area is known for, Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, are two of my favorite varietals. I think I managed to hit about six wineries a day, but toward the end of the trip, I slowed down, pacing myself more by plotting wineries that were farther away from the main towns.

That was how I ended up, at the conclusion of my last day, driving for about an hour down the winding roads through the Santa Rita Hills trying to find a particular winery whose wines were supposed to be amazing. I had made an appointment for the end of the day since it was so far removed from anywhere else I had been. I felt like a drunken explorer, wending my way through the little mountains past vineyards and fields dotted here and there with cows and various farm sheds.

After a little while, the road became unpaved, the signage stopped, and I was beginning to get worried that I was on the wrong track, but then I noticed a crude wooden sign for the winery I was seeking that pointed down an even rougher dirt track.

Downshifting, I pulled onto the ranch road and drove another five minutes past some sheds and a trickling creek before pulling up to a rusty iron gate that was flung open to reveal a gravel driveway.

With more than a little trepidation, I slowly pulled onto the drive and continued another couple minutes until I pulled around a bend and saw a huge shed in front of me. I’d arrived at the winery.

Unlike the places in Napa and Sonoma, the wineries down here were more casual, functional affairs. If the building kept the temperature cool, it was good for the wines, and good enough for the winemakers.

I gingerly stepped from my car and walked around the shed to where I could see the huge front doors. No one seemed to be around, not even a ranch dog. I knocked on one of the doors but got no answer, so I meekly stepped inside and started to look around.

I could hear some clanging from one corner of the shed, so I followed the noise, calling out, “Hello!”

The clanging immediately stopped, and as I continued walking, I saw a figure appear from between the fermentation tanks in front of me.

The person who greeted me was a burly young guy in his early twenties, with sparkling green eyes, reddish hair, and the start of a beard. He was about my height, which is to say, not tall, but he had at least forty pounds of muscle on me, which he’d amassed from harvesting grapes, hauling crates, and cleaning the huge tanks. When I met him, he was jollily stomping around in a pair of waterproof boots—the costume of his trade—and he came forward to meet me with a hearty handshake.

“You must be Brad,” he said, smiling broadly.

“I am, thank you for having me,” I said, trying to be polite, though I was immediately charmed by him.

“I’m Samuel, the barrel master. I’ve been expecting you.”

“Sorry to have kept you waiting!” I stammered. “The drive up here was longer than I thought.”

“I know it, I’ve got to make it every morning!” Samuel said, laughing. “Everyone else has gone home for the day, so it’s just you and me. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” I told him, struggling to hide my grin.

“I’m about done here anyway, so let’s get tasting,” he suggested.

I followed him to a little makeshift tasting bar that had been set up in the corner. It was basically a couple planks of wood thrown over two barrels. He raised an eyebrow at me, and asked, “Why don’t we go out and enjoy the sunset?”

“Sounds good,” I replied as he picked up two wineglasses and handed them to me, then scooped up several different bottles in his arms and tromped outside.

He led me around the shed to where there were a couple of beach chairs set up in a clearing that overlooked the hills all the way to the ocean. The sun was almost dipping into the sea as we set everything down, and Samuel poured each of us a taste of the first wine.

The sunset was just spectacular, illuminating the few clouds in the sky with shades of orange, pink, and lavender. Samuel and I sat there, enjoying it in silence for a few moments before starting to discuss the wines.

I was pleased to see that he was drinking them with me. Unlike some of the more formal tastings I’d been on, where one was expected to spit out the wine to avoid getting tipsy, we were both downing our tastes, then comparing opinions.

We didn’t agree on much. He tasted one thing, I tasted another. He liked this one, I liked that one. We were both getting a little “happy,” and our disagreements only contributed to the congenial mood, giving us something to keep talking about.

Now, I thought Samuel was very handsome, with his ruddy cheeks, his beefy physique, and his friendly manner, but I did not have even the faintest suspicion that he might be into guys. That is, until I noticed he kept refilling my glass before his own, letting his hand linger on mine as he held my cup steady.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye, and I could see that he was checking me out when he thought I wasn’t looking. I didn’t blame him. My cheeks were ruddy, too, from a day of wine tasting. My skin was tanned from the L.A. sun, and from spending a few days roaming the wine country and enjoying the glorious weather. The fresh air had done me a world of good, and I was already in great shape from hiking and hitting the gym. Though I was more slender than he was, I still had the muscle to take him on. My straight dark brown hair contrasted sharply against my bright hazel eyes, and it was long enough almost to touch my shoulders in kind of a Euro way, but not cheesy or girly since I never tied it in a ponytail. I was a sophisticated city dweller, and I wanted to cowboy up.

When we had tried the last wine, I gazed pensively at the last rays of sunlight emanating from the horizon, and I felt like I never wanted this moment to end, so I figured out a way to prolong it. I asked Samuel for a tour of the winery.

“Of course!” he exclaimed, flustered. “I can’t believe I didn’t show you around before we had the wine.”

I laid a delicate, uncalloused hand on his massive shoulder, comforting him. “We had a sunset to catch, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” he agreed, grinning. He took my hand from his shoulder and pulled me up. “Come on,” he said, still grinning.

Samuel gathered up the bottles and I grabbed our glasses, and we both went inside, depositing them at the bar. Samuel gave me a mischievous smile, then opened a door I had not noticed before and stepped inside a dark room. Was he leading me into his love lair?

I stepped forward, but just as I did, he reemerged with a dusty bottle. It was about seven years old and was one of the estate’s reserve wines.

“I don’t usually do this,” he told me, “but you really seem to appreciate our wines, and since we don’t agree on anything, I want to know what you think of it.”

I couldn’t believe my luck. The bottle he was holding was worth several hundred dollars at least, and I was going to get to taste it!

I kept thanking him as he carefully opened it and poured us each a new full glass. Then he led me to one corner of the winery and showed me where the grapes came in. He told me about how they treated the grapes and the methods they used to ferment them, age the juice in barrels, and then blend the barrels into their different wines. I was very interested in everything he was saying since the wine was delicious, but I found myself distracted by watching him talk animatedly about what went on in the winery.

I wanted to kiss him so badly, especially when he grabbed my shoulder and guided me to the next point of our tour. I held back, though, waiting for the right moment. Waiting for some sure sign that my feelings were requited. I gulped down my last drop of wine, barely noticing the rich flavor that had made me so happy earlier.

Samuel looked at me quizzically but gulped his down, too, then put both our glasses down on a counter next to one of the aging barrels.

“Come on,” he said, taking my hand and leading me to the main barrel room. When we reached it, I was overwhelmed by the comforting, toasty smell of the oak, with just a little hint of yeast giving it some tang.

“This is my room,” Samuel told me proudly.

“It’s wonderful,” I breathed, taking in the sight of all the barrels and shivering a little in the cold. Wineries must stay cold to control the rate of fermentation and the aging process of wines, so they can get a little chilly.

Samuel noticed and came to stand next to me, throwing a heavy arm over my shoulder and pulling me close into his warmth. Before I knew what I was doing, I turned my face toward his, gently grabbed his head, and guided it toward my own for the kiss we had both been waiting for.

His lips were chapped, and his beard poked my face, but I didn’t mind either discomfort at all. It felt so good, so right, to be kissing a real man after all the pansies I came across in Los Angeles. I loved tasting the wine we had just drunk on Samuel’s lips, feeling his rough tongue scrape against mine as it probed deeper and deeper into my mouth. His thickset arms were wrapping around me, squeezing me tight so that I found it difficult to breathe all the way in, but I wouldn’t have had him loosen his hold for all the world.

His hairy, thick forearms pulled me into a bear hug as we made out, and I felt pressed against the wall of muscle that was his torso. A few more years and he’d be a worldclass bear, but for right now, he was just a stocky, pumped young guy. I ran my hands along his broad back and felt the hard-worked muscles of his shoulders, rounded as they were from the manual labor he performed at the winery. His legs, too, I could feel, were solid as wine barrels, stretching the fabric of his work overalls. As soon as I reached down to cop a feel of his burly, juicy ass, I knew he could fuck me ’til I wouldn’t be able to walk straight.

Samuel’s hands, meanwhile, were busy as well, feeling my entire body up and down. He especially seemed to like my well-formed pecs and the six-pack that had taken me years of crunches to achieve. Before I knew what he was doing, he had lifted me up under the legs so that I could wrap them around his waist and he could carry me over to the nearest racking barrel.

It was a big, traditional Burgundy barrel, fully rounded in the middle, so when Samuel put me down on it, he didn’t even have to bend his knees. He started to pull back, but I held him close to me by keeping my legs tightly wrapped around him, and smiled as he leaned back in to kiss me. My face was growing warm and red from all the saliva swapping, but it was still freezing in the barrel room. I wanted to get naked with Samuel so badly, but I couldn’t imagine having sex in such a cold, dank place, no matter how hot we got.

By this time, I could feel that both our packages were getting hard, mine beneath my jeans, and Samuel’s making a bulge beneath the denim of his overalls. I loosened my legs around him and let them drop to either side of his massive trunk while Samuel reached down and carefully undid my zipper. He didn’t have to root around for long to find my prick. It popped right out like a jack-in-the-box, and he coaxed it to maximum hardness with one of his meaty paws.

Placing a hand on either side of my narrow hips to brace himself, Samuel bent down and began to play with the knob of my cock using just his tongue. First, he sopped up the film of clear precum that had drooled out of my urethra, smacking his lips at the salty, sticky taste. Then, he started to dip his head up and down on my champagne flute, taking more and more of it down his throat. Finally, he hoovered the whole thing, and made his cheeks and tongue undulate around it rhythmically, producing the sexiest slurping noises and giving me chills.

The scrubby hairs on his lips and chin tickled my shaft when he took it out of his mouth to play around with his tongue. I had a hard time maintaining my balance each time his sandpaper face jolted me, but it felt so good, so manly, that I just grabbed on to his bushy hair and forced his face farther down to suck on my balls.

The contrast between the soft, downy flesh of my nutsack and his rough-bearded face only heightened the stimulation as he sucked both my testes at once. I inhaled sharply as he mildly pulled at them with his teeth, sending volts of electricity down to my very toes.

When my cock was perfectly hard and totally wet with his spit, Samuel pulled me off the barrel and turned me around so that I was leaning over its curve. He yanked my pants and underwear down so my ass was completely exposed to him, and I went completely limp, leaning over the barrel and ready to let him have his way with me.

The first thing I felt was the weight of his titanic hands, one seizing each of my ass cheeks and pulling them apart to expose my sensual valley. The next thing I felt was the coarse whiskers on his face as he bent near and inhaled a huge whiff of me. Then I felt my abdomen loosen as a molten liquid warmth enveloped the entirety of my bull’s eye. His tongue worked magic on me, and before long, I was both quaking with uncontrollable tingles of ecstasy and totally loosened up and ready to be ravaged.

Samuel’s tongue glossed over the length of my ass crack, licking each square inch of skin and sending me into an even higher state of excitement when he concentrated his efforts on my little wing nut. I reached behind me, grabbed hold of his skull, and mashed his face even harder into me until I felt his tongue delve deep into my love tunnel. That was quickly followed by one of his sturdy fingers, which slowly crept into my fudge chute, then wended its way deep into me.

He started to finger-fuck me while continuing to lick the sensitive nerve endings in my butt furrow, but I knew I would have to brace myself when I heard him stand up behind me. I hadn’t yet felt Samuel’s hard-on, but I reached back to take hold of it and guide it into my waiting ass. It was hefty and thick, just like its owner, with a head that was as big and round as a snow globe…at least it felt that way to me.

He had already managed to get it wet and slippery with a mixture of spit and the precum that I felt practically pouring from the hole at the tip of his dick. Holding his penis in one hand and pulling aside one of my cheeks in the other, I slowly maneuvered his corkscrew into my shy pink pucker.

I breathed in deeply, trying to loosen up enough to take in his remarkable girth, and it was only after a few seconds that I was able to decontract for him to push his way inside me. As every inch of his slab of meat entered me, I felt Samuel lean over onto me with his heavy bulk, pressing me even harder down onto the barrel. When he had totally penetrated me, he took a moment to kiss my ear and the back of my neck, letting me get used to his volume; then he smoothly pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the tip of his cock head inside me before gliding it all back into my ass cavity. He did that a few times; then he started to pump in and out of me with more purpose.

The bramble of his pubes was tickling my ass cheeks, and I could feel his balls whacking against my taint, making a sweaty slapping sound each time they came into contact with my skin. Samuel’s hands were prying apart my ass cheeks, opening them as far as they would go and stretching the skin of my sphincter as he plunged in and out of me with his fat hard-on. He stood back up and took a firmer grip on my pelvis, really plugging me with all he had. I took it for a few moments, but then I stood up, too, and arched my back in order to slow him down and make him punch deep up into me in order to hit my G-spot. I turned my head to kiss his scratchy face, sending my tongue on a caving mission into his mouth while he, in turn, went spelunking in my nether regions.

After a minute or two in that more intimate, profound position, Samuel asked me if we could change it up. I breathily agreed to do whatever he wanted, and so he pulled his knob out of me and set me back up on the barrel, facing him. Then bending his knees slightly, he launched himself back inside me with the precision of a guided missile, barely pausing when I issued forth a sound that was half moan and half whimper.

We were both totally warmed up, so Samuel started at a fast pace, jamming me several times a second as his breath came faster and more shallow. I loved being able to see the changing expressions on his face. His cheeks were puffed out and totally flushed from the exertion, and a line of sweat had broken out on his fair forehead. We both still had our tops on since it was cold in the barrel room, but I reached up to feel out the hard, rounded muscles of his husky frame, and I shifted my ass back and forth so that each time his sturdy, hairy legs slammed into me, we met with a powerful impact.

Our motions combined to create long, vigorous strokes that stoked the fires within both of us. I pulled Samuel’s face down to my own, his hefty weight resting upon me, so that we could kiss as he fucked my brains out. I could barely concentrate on anything except the fact that my ass and my back were aching—my ass from the pounding of a lifetime, and my back from the strange arch shape the barrel made me conform to. I didn’t care, though. I just wanted this to go on forever, though I knew that within a minute I would be spewing enough cum to fill one of the room’s stainless-steel fermentation tanks.

Each thrust sent me further and further toward the precipice. I had barely even touched my own dick since Samuel’s oral entertainments, but I could already feel the precum coating my piss pipe and the sperm flowing up from my prostate and through my balls to where it would erupt from my groin.

I could no longer resist giving in to my impulses, so I demanded that Samuel fuck me as hard as he could, and I gave myself a few final squeezes, getting ready to pop my cork. I told Samuel I was going to cum any second, and he panicked…with two results. The first is that he pounded me even harder, faster, his whole body becoming stiff as a board. The second was, after screaming that if I came on the barrel I’d ruin the wine, he bent down with a flexibility I found remarkable for someone as powerfully built as he was, so that his mouth was suctioned over the very tip of my cock.

That was it. He sent me right over the edge when his mouth latched on to me like that, and I began to ejaculate right into his orifice. Wave after wave of undeniable gratification swept over me as each burst of semen flew out of my body.

Samuel struggled to gulp it all down. I always produced big loads, but his massive cock had kneaded out every last bit of semen I had to offer, like a fully inflated winepress, and I was sending it all down his throat. He managed to suck down most of it, but he was quickly overwhelmed and let a few drops spill back onto my pelvis. He was considerate, though, and as soon as he knew I was done, he released my dick from his mouth, and licked up the remaining splatters from my body.

The least I could do was return the favor, so I climbed down from the barrel. His prick was completely engorged and red, with veins sticking out in every which way. He had to be close to completion. With the same attention he’d given me, I fastened on to his cock with the single-mindedness of a leech and sucked for all I was worth.

Using my hands, I coaxed and caressed moans of pleasure from him, and when the flow of his precum became particularly heavy, I knew he had only seconds left to resist me, so I employed my hands to jerk his slobbery cock off while I continued to suck and lick at the sensitive skin on the bottom of his shaft right below the head. That did the trick, and he began to shudder, while his balls shriveled way up into his groin.

Keeping my mouth over the entire head of his cock so that not even a jot of juice would escape me, I continued to tug at his shaft until I felt surge after surge of body-hot goo hitting the back of my mouth and running down my throat. He kept gushing for almost a half-minute more, then, treating me to one final trickle of his mineral-tasting slime, he shifted back and pulled out of my mouth. I wiped at my chin to be sure I had polished off all his gunk, then stood up to kiss him, tasting our mingled substances on both our mouths.

Standing back at the rudimentary bar a few minutes later, Samuel poured us both another glass from the vintage bottle he had pulled out earlier. We swirled our wine, sniffed at it professionally, then tasted a hearty swig of it.

“Delicious berry notes and a strong alcohol content, but still a fine, young acidity. Just beautiful,” I sighed, taking another sip.

“For once I agree with you, but it’s nothing compared to how you taste,” said Samuel.

“Well, that was just one sample. You’ll have to try a few more before making your final judgment,” I told him, knowledgeably.

“I look forward to it. You know, we could use more wine writers like you around here. Ones who are really willing to get their hands dirty…”

“Well, it helps to have a barrel master who can show you the ropes and really let you delve into every aspect of the winemaking process,” I replied, taking another sip. “That’s how you learn.”

“I plan to teach you everything I know,” he told me.

Raising my glass to toast him, I replied, “I look forward to it.”