Whitley bay slut

Added: Alaine Schill - Date: 29.09.2021 12:27 - Views: 46009 - Clicks: 1373

These balmy suburbs of canny Newcastle-on-Tyne Are the dearly beloved seaside haunts of my youth, To which I would venture from nearby trendy Gosforth Hoping to secure a knee-trembler with some slut I had picked up in a classy seafront bar After having invested in a quart of brown ale To expedite the lowering of her damp panties. How oft have I returned to this haven of decadence With ladies of my acquaintance for a weekend Of extra-marital nookie by the North Sea, And how fondly I do recall the combined shrieks Of the hovering seagulls and my own birds' climaxes Blending into a musical cacophony Of aural sensuality and jollity.

One memorable occasion springs to mind When I was visiting the Greengrocers Global Annual Conference and accompanying gang-bang: At the opening cocktail party where chaps like moi Attempted to put some cock into the offered tail I met a deliciously upper class biddy - Ethel Forbes-King-Tweecker was her teasing name - Who, after a couple of dozen Campari and sodas Agreed to open her legs in my seaview suite, After merely a suggestion from sophisticated me. And thus began a most strange romantic affair: Every few weeks she would leave her executive office At the HQ of the Fresh Veggie Promotion Board In leafy Leatherhead in bourgeois Surrey To journey northwards for miles or more Eager for a length of my Northumbrian cucumber, Arriving breathless just before the midnight hour, Just in time for a tasty gourmet bedtime snack Followed by a serious seeing-to beneath the sheets, And then back in her company car for the long trip home leaking my love-juice a little on the upholstery , In order to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed At her desk for nine o'clock the next morning.

O how she must have loved me and who could blame her? But such a convenient idyll could not last for long, As the petrol bill must have been a burden Especially since she had a crippled mother to support I was not really obliged to chip in more than the odd quid, as I have never believed in giving a bird a big head. And sadly one day, when she was filling up her tank At a petrol station on the A1 trunk road Her finger was run over by a pantechnicon, normally not a serious misadventure; however on this particular occasion she was trying to extract her damp knickers from her bum cleft with fatal consequences.

But I try not to be downcast by these sad memories As, upon reflection, she was getting a bit clingy, Suggesting she could stay the occasional weekend And even expecting to be taken out for a tandoori. Worst of all, she enquired once as to the ownership Of the diaphragm drying out in my bathroom cupboard.

So dear Ethel is yet another tragic notch On my bedpost on the romantic Tyneside shore. This is the th in my series of romantic "Memories" poems. I have used a picture of a lighthouse as background as Tynemouth is famous for this very feature. That and the used condoms which litter the promenade each morning.

If you enjoyed this which I am sure you did please read about my adventures in Blackpool, possibly the world's finest seaside resort It's in the series Add to list. Memories of Tynemouth and Whitley Bay. Like 13 45 Great Great share Inspiring Like I'd certainly love to visit The Hairy Lemon for a wee bit of fun!!! You have so many wonderful memories!!! Barry Hodges - I trust you know what "hairy lemon" refers to Barry Hodges - I only discovered this pub by accident as I was doing a spot of genealogical research and lo and behold the pub was a conversion of my family's home in the early years of the century.

Barry Hodges - Sounds nice. Jimmyjenk - Some interesting memories here, my friend, to be sure!! I love the detail you invest in this, the frank and yet nostalgic view you've taken on this one Nicely done, sir!! Ethel Forbes-King-Tweecker? Why I do believe she is no stranger to me either! Or it could've been her great-great-great grandmother I'm thinking of But I found this naughty, raunchy and exceedingly eye-popping Good luck! Barry Hodges - A fine comment. Thanks for the giggle. Looking forward to hearing about Blackpool. Barry Hodges - I am delighted that you have wisely awarded a silver trophy to this magnificent oeuvre of mine.

You want to read about Blackpool too? But worst of all, Leysdown-on-Sea, the most downmarket seaside town in England, if not in Europe. You aren't allowed on the beach unless you have a beer belly AND a tattoo and that's only the women. Barry Hodges - Thank you for that sincere compliment. Viking75 - I'm sorry I have to remove you from the contest. This is about your home state, not romantic poems.

Barry Hodges - Are you simple or something? BeachBum1 - a very cheeky piece indeed! I think I am too scared to click the link provided in your authors notes for fear of what else I may read lol! Barry Hodges - Let me know where you live! I may already have written a poem about that locale as it's where my aunt was hit by a bus. Barry Hodges - So I'll delete it instead.

Nice glasses you're wearing. Do they stop your brain leaking? Love reading your poetry to get a laugh, thats for sure. I can see why you won the trophy. After I read this passage I was outraged The damn cheek of the woman! A tandori indeed!. Tsk tsk, and I can imagine that this would have only progressed into expecting an ice-cream for pudding too. You are certainly better off without this I think you might make one small addition to your orgasmic overture - perhaps a fermata known in the trade as an 'eyeball' to indicate a pause, marking the point at which one inevitably holds one's breath.

My late uncle Tony had a heart attack and asked the consultant whether it would be OK to have sex in the future. The consultant said that was fine, but instead of holding his breath at the point of climax, he should shout "Geronimo". This much amused the rest of the family every night, who were convinced that he had ed the spiritualist church and was trying to make contact with the living.

So he went back to holding his breath and had another heart attack which is why he is late - what a way to go! Engelbert Humpalot - I am impressed you did not reveal you owned the diaphragm in the bathroom cupboard. My sister would have been fucking annoyed with you if you had, especially since pimped quite a few birds for you.

Barry Hodges - I have added some visuals to make this poem a winner! Barry Hodges - The pictures are there now for your delectation! Barry Hodges - Tynemouth is the posh end and indeed my ancestors owned a fabulous Georgian house there from which they could look down on the plebs as they starved - Whitley Bay is less salubrious and has some tasteful pubs including one called the "Hairy Lemon" where the barman hands out condoms with every drink. Yes I agree. It wasn't funny, then or now, but we were a lot younger and, unlike your goodself, innocent in our fun.

Two bits of business: I think you mean "bird's", or are you having multiple sluts? Not quite as gruesome as some of your ly penned atrocities but at least worth a couple of cucumbers - sorry, bananas. Barry Hodges - I can assure you that I am a very superior greengrocer asparagus is my biggest seller, followed by my own cucumber may I add and rest assured, caro Donaldo, I know exactly where to put my apostrophes!

As you surmise, birds' was an intentional plural. I also enjoy some chopped parsimony with my fish and chips. Barry Hodges - I did not know you had been to Whitley Bay! And it is a notorious pick-up spot. Geordies are famous for their good taste. I may well try and add a photo of this pub to the poem! Nog - I'm an Atheist but Oh My God! There is a cover band that knocks around the traps here in South Australia called Hairy Lemon. The rythym section is friends with my brothers band [my old band] and yes, both the rythym guitarist and bass are, get this, Geordies!! Far out. Barry Hodges - I fear that "Hairy Lemon" may be a Geordie vulgarism for the external female organs of generation - check out "Hairy Lemon" on google.

Whitley bay slut

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