A vine, ripe and ready, finds itself ensnared by a voracious, hungry mouth. The lips, wet and wanting, wrap around the vine's girth, sucking and slurping with abandon. The vine's length disappears, inch by inch, into the warm, welcoming mouth, only to reemerge, glistening and glistening, as the mouth works its magic, coaxing the vine's sweet, sticky nectar to the surface.