Cookout on Tar Beach: Now serving Northern European Sausage

Earlier this week I was over at the University library holed up in my little graduate cubicle, the door with the frosted glass shut to keep out the noise of the undergraduates, when there's a knock on the glass.

"Hmm," think I. "Who could it be?" Who the hell knows I'm here? Or maybe it's someone looking for my cube-mate, a slightly dorky grad student studying chemistry. I open the door, and who should it be... but Tammy...

Turns out Frankie told her where to find me...

So, one thing leads to another and we're hanging out in the little room, talking and a little hanky-panky, and I decide it's time to take the party elsewhere. Sometimes the door to the roof of the library is open (I think some student has a key and opens it every once in a while). We head to the stair well and climb to the top and I'm rewarded with... an unlocked door.

Tar beach. Nothing finer.

We step out into the spring air. Early March and spring has arrived in full force here in central North Carolina. We walk to the edge and look out over the chest-high wall to the campus and city spread below us. Tammy steps up close to me, snuggles in, and we kiss. It's a warm, wet kiss. I'm thinking she likes it. We kiss for a bit and then she slides down and begins to unbuckle my pants, freeing my hard cock in the soft night air. I am enthralled when she takes me in her mouth; not even the hint of teeth and I'm all the way in her mouth, her chin against my balls, her nose against flesh.

And then she begins to bob. It feels like it goes forever, my hands gripping her blonde hair, pulling and pushing; the sounds of campus life below & the city noise drifting over the campus.

She swallows.

Afterward, we make our way back down the stairs, and she kisses me goodnight at my grad cube door, and I go back inside to try and make sense of armed conflict as an economic stimulus. My mind is just not on it. I can only imagine myself back up on the tar beach, my eyes rolled back into my head, my hands gripping her hair and head, and my rigid pole wet from her mouth.

How the hell am I going to get anything done with that memory engraved on my mind?

Nice to find another woman who likes Northern European Sausage, however...