tagErotic PoetryBring Back The Glamour Years

Bring Back The Glamour Years


(She always wore seamed stockings)

Girls in scant bikinis sunbathing on golden sand;

Flirting with all the 'gentleman', making their cocks expand.

Old folks sat in deck-chairs with thunder on their face;

Beholding the voluptuous titties and thinking... "What a disgrace!"

(The women anyway).

I'd remind them "this is the Nineties and almost anything goes".

Pubic hair unconcealed; naked to the tips of their toes.

I've even seen couples shagging, b'neath the pier and pale moonlight.

The rays of lust stroking nipples; her vagina, nubile and tight.

Amusement arcades all heaving; young women with slender, long legs.

Adorned in strappy scandals; tracing the curve of their perfect peds.

Bending over slot machines, with their buttocks in the air.

I could almost pull their knickers down and screw them then and there.

A middle aged 'lady' sat cross legged; exposing a well shaped thigh.

Staring at the surfers; her breasts heaving a desirous sigh.

She sat there every morning; outside the café 'Royal Grand',

Savouring a cup of coffee; like she would a swollen gland.


Relaxing on the balcony of my run-down, guest-house, room,

A veil on the past lifted and my memory contrived to resume.

She was like a ghost from the Sixties, when I was a teenage boy;

Looking good in tan, seamed, stockings, when women where the real McCoy.

Bring back the glamour years of stockings not tights.

When girls dressed in flouncy frocks for the 'hop' on a Saturday night.

Dancing to Bill Hailey's Comets and 'Fucking Round the Clock' and

Letting me part their Pussy hair with my seven and a half inch cock.

Helen always wore seamed stockings, to tantalise and tease.

Walking with her mama my cock they would appease.

Looking more like sisters, strolling along the, bustling, seafront.

Like the proverbial nice girls, with a candle up their cunts.

It was love at first sight when I met her; at the 'gaff' I was staying that week.

Helen was young and vibrant and didn't mind I was a bit antique.

I'd bury my thumb in her vagina and finger probe her arse.

Sucking on her clitoris; she'd cum like a meretricious brass.

Her mother was in her thirties but looked a good deal less and

If I hadn't fancied Helen I'd have shagged her, I must confess.

(I would have shagged her anyway; any porthole in a storm).

Attracted by her demeanour and some fully fashioned hose and

The way she dangled her heels, on the end of her pretty toes.

She would tease me, in the evening, with an up-skirt talent show.

Blatantly exhibiting her pouting twat; watching my hard-on grow.

She would rub her legs together and rest her feet in her daughters lap.

Politely going to relieve myself; metaphorically poking her twat.

My luck changed one Friday, when they asked me down for tea.

Parading around in white aprons and suspenders just for me.

I wondered what my fate would be, when offered a cream éclair.

Relaxing, whilst they fondled themselves, my prick was in despair.

Life begins at forty and I'm convinced that must be true;

For she sucked my cock like an eighteen year old, this wasn't her debut.

Doris, she asked me to call her as I massaged her stocking-tops.

Petting her sopping love-nest and giving her the hots.

I don't know what made me nervous, when Helen sat on my face;

Probing her salacious, pink, tunnel with her pubes prickling my 'boat race'.

Helen, really played the doxy; the perfect little whore,

I frolicked with her mouth-watering tits; almost cumming premature.

They both wore Cuban heels; black nylons up to their quim.

The curve in their gams was amazing, with ankles dreamy and slim.

Helen rolled back my foreskin with the soles of her beautiful feet,

Whilst I pampered her mother's 'puppies'; my pleasure was indiscreet.


Doris put on her favourite condom, a ten denier stocking hose.

Enfolding it down the length my cock; her domination she did impose.

My shaft was ready for action as she teased me with her clit.

Easing the nylon up her minge; deep inside her fleshy cock-pit.

We almost came together in a wave of orgasmic bliss,

Spunk surged up my hard-on and I creamed this se-duc-tress.

Our body fluids mingled and cum streamed from her pulsating twat;

Running down my stiffy and soaking her kitty-cat.

By the time my spurts had diminished; Helen, had stopped me giving head.

Frigging her libidinous pussy flaps, with her six inch spikes instead.

She quivered with desire as an orgasm took control,

Thrusting her feet in my bollocks; great pleasure she did instol.

The rest of the week past quietly and nothing more was said

Until the night before my departure I shagged Helen on my bed.

She really was a dreamy blond, with matching collars and cuffs.

I'm going back there next week to dive her mother's muff.

Back to 'Sea View Guest House' where time just lies in wait...

For a trip back to the Fifties; to Betty Page I would masturbate.


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