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Monday, July 12, 2010

Jarritos Variety Pack: Guava

Second in our perusal of the Variety Pack donated by Jarritos is Guava, or Guayaba. I haven't had a lot of guava sodas (or juices, for that matter). When I have, the main impression it has left on me has been of slightly sweet musky thick pulp, which--while possessed of a certain cheesy-romance-novel sensuous quality--is nevertheless not exactly my favorite thing.

However, in honor of that particular tenuous connection...I think we have found a suitable theme for today's review.


Sunset was Joanne's favorite time of day. As she walked through the gardens in her royal-blue track shorts and lace-trimmed halter top which showed off the exquisite contours of her supple, tanned leather harness, the gathering cool of the approaching dusk allowed her to release some of the tension in the strong yet feminine muscles of her upper back. Beads of sweat fell from the honey-colored bangs in front of her eyes and ran down into the shadowed valleys beneath her collarbones. It had been a long day, but he never minded performing the..."special services"...she was uniquely suited to render to the master of the house.
Even when she had first come here, little more than a girl, she had loved the lush gardens around the master's house. She remembered that day so clearly--how she had stood in the dress with that preposterously short skirt, feeling so exposed and vulnerable, feeling his gaze travel over her. His eyes, looking up at her, and his voice, husky, saying that yes, she would do, she would serve well--and her surprise and finding herself not appalled, but actually eager...


That same husky voice drew her from her reverie, making her gasp. It was as though she was feeling his arms again, his hands on her neck, her shoulders...

"Joanne, come on. We have so much more to do today."

With a start, she realized that it WAS his hands she felt, as he sat in his usual place. His heels kicked at her sides, urging her to go on, to go further, and she responded with her usual desperate eagerness to please.

She stepped further down the row, a delicious shiver of pleasure racing from her neck down her spine to a deeper core within her as the whine and buzz of the motors sounded just behind her left ear. The tiny puffs of ozone from the sultry, overheated circuitry tantalized her, making her tremble. The burnished, articulated bionic arm extended langorously up, and delicately plucked the guava from the branch where it had slowly ripened over the months before. Now it sat in the sharp-edged hand, its slightly wrinkled skin pressed firmly to the gleaming metal surface of the seven digits and palm within which is was held, in an inescapable embrace.
But why would it want to escape?, she thought. Why would it want anything else?
The master's voice sounded from just above her head.
"My batteries are running low, but I think I want one more. Hold this one for me, won't you?"
The arm swiveled gracefully and released the fruit, and it fell into her arms. For once, she was the one to hold it, to feel it against her own milky, smooth, scented skin. The guava--this guava, this very symbol of fertility--she couldn't wait any longer. She had to possess it, to consume it, and she couldn't wait any longer.

The juices ran down her chin as the pulp rose to the surface, responding to her insistent squeezing. In the total abandonment of her enjoyment of the guava, her eyes closed, long lashes catching the last rays of the setting sun filtered through the leaves of the garden, she didn't feel the weight shifting in the harness.
When her eyes opened, she found herself staring into the half-metal, half-flesh face of the master, who had climbed from the harness onto the top of her head. His four legs clutched gently at the elegant shape of her head, and the red gleam from his right ocular prosthetic reflected the warmth of his cybernetic heart as he watched her sensual pleasure with evident enjoyment.

"I hope you saved some for me," he crooned delicately.

Where and when: donated by Jarritos
Color: Translucent pink. Not quite hot pink. Maybe the pink of the blush on the cheek of mind.
Scent: Unexpectedly not that sweet. Melonish, mild, a tiny bit acrid. Fruity.
Taste: Rather a lot like the scent. The initial taste has a core of sweetness, but the sides are fairly tart, and there is a lot of melon-y volatility. It's pretty good. The aftertaste doesn't get very tart--no more than the initial tartness around the side. The headiness does linger, interestingly, and feels like it's staying in the top of my mouth.

I like this one quite a bit more than the fruit punch. This actually tastes a bit like fruit. It's still quite sweet--maybe just a touch too much so--but not as cloying. Much more refreshing.

Quaff rating: 3.0 Quite nice.
Cough rating: 0.5 Maybe the tiniest bit too sweet for me.


  1. Okay, I have been reading Perdido Street Station, by China Mieville. Perhaps it has worn off on me a bit.

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