Summer time and pretty girls

[The Uninvited Guest]

I've just been into the local town to get my hair cut and whilst sitting in the chair I noticed in the mirror the reflection of the receptionist resting her rather ample, some what exposed, Titties on the counter. Being a normal red blooded fellow I hoped that the hairdesser would take longer than normal to cut my hair. Leaving the shop rather flustered and with heart racing I got into my car and drove home. By the time I reached my destination my blood preasure had returned to normal. Just as I was about to open the garden gate, jogging up the lane towards me was a young Lady with a pair of the most enormous mellons bouncing all over the place. Have I died and gone to heaven?? Cold shower and then off to mow the lawn if I can concentrate!!

 

[User removed 4]

I've just been into the local town to get my hair cut and whilst sitting in the chair I noticed in the mirror the reflection of the receptionist resting her rather ample, some what exposed, Titties on the counter. Being a normal red blooded fellow I hoped that the hairdesser would take longer than normal to cut my hair. Leaving the shop rather flustered and with heart racing I got into my car and drove home. By the time I reached my destination my blood preasure had returned to normal. Just as I was about to open the garden gate, jogging up the lane towards me was a young Lady with a pair of the most enormous mellons bouncing all over the place. Have I died and gone to heaven?? Cold shower and then off to mow the lawn if I can concentrate!!

cold shower and mow the lawn after knocking one out ?

 

[NMH]

We ought to have a 'pics' thread, for our intrepid girl-watching men on the streets.

Come on lads, this is the digital age, you have cams on your phones too.

 

[Mendoza]

ahh, the Sunshine Sheila's, you have to luv em, where do they hide during the cold, winter months?

 

[Normal Rob]

I love this time of year - skimpy summer clothes come out but it's still a little bit chilly.

 

[The Uninvited Guest]

We ought to have a 'pics' thread, for our intrepid girl-watching men on the streets.

Come on lads, this is the digital age, you have cams on your phones too.

I don't make a habbit of BABE watching, but when it is thrust into one's face ( so to put it no puns intended ) what more can a poor boy do? I live a quiet life here in Bumpkin land but certain visions in tight running tops up set my rhythm

 

[sten_super]

A guy at work forwarded this yesterday.

Ah, T*t Monday. It's not that far off now...

That glorious day when, heading into work on the bus, or walking to the tube, or sitting on the train, you find yourself suddenly chirpier than you have been in months. You find yourself smiling at strangers again. There is a mild involuntary tumescence in your trousers that comes and goes throughout the morning with the comforting regularity of a heartbeat.

And then you get a text around lunchtime from a mate which says: "At last, T*t Monday!" And you instantly understand why you are so happy. For T*t Monday is that special day in the year when, for the first time, the temperature rises above that magical point which causes girls getting dressed in the morning to decide to show a bit of skin.

After months of dull colours and chunky knit, the world's birds suddenly dive into last summer's wardrobe (they've not had chance to buy this season's stuff) and chuck it on without a thought. Your urban landscape is suddenly lightened with acres of naked arm and leg and, after many dark months of burrowing, breasts rising to the surface like moles at dusk.

Big breasts in white work shirts straining at the buttons. Small breasts braless in vest tops, the nipples frotted by ribby fabrics. Breasts in summer dresses bouncing in the distance so that they catch your eye before you even notice there is someone wearing them. Breasts nudging out from the crowd at traffic islands, quivering to cross the road...

And you know it is nearly summer. For previous generations, the arrival of spring was heralded by the sound of the first cuckoo. For us, it is T*t Monday.

Not that it always falls on a Monday. Like Easter, T*t Monday is a moveable feast. Last year it fell on a Friday. Friday 29 April, to be precise, when temperatures maxed out at 22.1C after nothing much above 16C all year. It last fell on a Monday in 2004, when temperatures leapt to 22C on 24 April.

And then, of course, there is T*t Monday Night. You see, in early summer, temperatures drop off very dramatically when night falls (T*t Friday 2005 dropped away to a parky 11.8C). But the dollies are not prepared. Slightly stunned by the morning heat, they drag out the summer clothes but forget to bring a cardie (a mistake they will not make again until next year), so that when they're all standing outside All Bar One after work celebrating the arrival of spring, their barely covered nipples have no protection from the cold. It's like a Bring-and-Buy sale where everyone has brought hat pegs. It's like a prog-rock gig where, instead of lighters, everyone is holding up nipples.

So when will T*t Monday fall this year? Will you be the first to text your mates with the announcement? Do not shoot your bolt too early. There will be false starts. You will smell fresh cut grass and see a couple of early starters and feel compelled to declare T*t Monday. But your more level-headed friends will tell you to hold your horses, keep your powder dry, don't fire until you see the whites of their bra straps.

As the poet said: one bold Northern slapper in a bikini doth not a summer make.

 

[Mendoza]

A guy at work forwarded this yesterday.

Ah, T*t Monday. It's not that far off now...

That glorious day when, heading into work on the bus, or walking to the tube, or sitting on the train, you find yourself suddenly chirpier than you have been in months. You find yourself smiling at strangers again. There is a mild involuntary tumescence in your trousers that comes and goes throughout the morning with the comforting regularity of a heartbeat.

And then you get a text around lunchtime from a mate which says: "At last, T*t Monday!" And you instantly understand why you are so happy. For T*t Monday is that special day in the year when, for the first time, the temperature rises above that magical point which causes girls getting dressed in the morning to decide to show a bit of skin.

After months of dull colours and chunky knit, the world's birds suddenly dive into last summer's wardrobe (they've not had chance to buy this season's stuff) and chuck it on without a thought. Your urban landscape is suddenly lightened with acres of naked arm and leg and, after many dark months of burrowing, breasts rising to the surface like moles at dusk.

Big breasts in white work shirts straining at the buttons. Small breasts braless in vest tops, the nipples frotted by ribby fabrics. Breasts in summer dresses bouncing in the distance so that they catch your eye before you even notice there is someone wearing them. Breasts nudging out from the crowd at traffic islands, quivering to cross the road...

And you know it is nearly summer. For previous generations, the arrival of spring was heralded by the sound of the first cuckoo. For us, it is T*t Monday.

Not that it always falls on a Monday. Like Easter, T*t Monday is a moveable feast. Last year it fell on a Friday. Friday 29 April, to be precise, when temperatures maxed out at 22.1C after nothing much above 16C all year. It last fell on a Monday in 2004, when temperatures leapt to 22C on 24 April.

And then, of course, there is T*t Monday Night. You see, in early summer, temperatures drop off very dramatically when night falls (T*t Friday 2005 dropped away to a parky 11.8C). But the dollies are not prepared. Slightly stunned by the morning heat, they drag out the summer clothes but forget to bring a cardie (a mistake they will not make again until next year), so that when they're all standing outside All Bar One after work celebrating the arrival of spring, their barely covered nipples have no protection from the cold. It's like a Bring-and-Buy sale where everyone has brought hat pegs. It's like a prog-rock gig where, instead of lighters, everyone is holding up nipples.

So when will T*t Monday fall this year? Will you be the first to text your mates with the announcement? Do not shoot your bolt too early. There will be false starts. You will smell fresh cut grass and see a couple of early starters and feel compelled to declare T*t Monday. But your more level-headed friends will tell you to hold your horses, keep your powder dry, don't fire until you see the whites of their bra straps.

As the poet said: one bold Northern slapper in a bikini doth not a summer make.

I got that too, its brilliant and so true. Well worth an appearance on NSC

 

[Pretty pink fairy]

plenty about in eastbourne

 

[The Uninvited Guest]

plenty about in eastbourne

Semi naked chubby Grannies? I'm on my way to Eastbourne. Will I find it on my Sat Nav?

 

[Dr Q]

I've just been into the local town to get my hair cut and whilst sitting in the chair I noticed in the mirror the reflection of the receptionist resting her rather ample, some what exposed, Titties on the counter. Being a normal red blooded fellow I hoped that the hairdesser would take longer than normal to cut my hair. Leaving the shop rather flustered and with heart racing I got into my car and drove home. By the time I reached my destination my blood preasure had returned to normal. Just as I was about to open the garden gate, jogging up the lane towards me was a young Lady with a pair of the most enormous mellons bouncing all over the place. Have I died and gone to heaven?? Cold shower and then off to mow the lawn if I can concentrate!!

Either its summer, or you're living in a Benny Hill sketch!!!!

 

[Pretty pink fairy]

Semi naked chubby Grannies? I'm on my way to Eastbourne. Will I find it on my Sat Nav?

what ever takes your fancy??

 

[The Uninvited Guest]

Either its summer, or you're living in a Benny Hill sketch!!!!

I kid you not sir. Pop into Chaps Barber shop, Heathfield. receptionist 5ft 4inches,long dark hair, low cut tight top and quite well stacked! Won't tell you where I saw the jogger but will hide in bushes to get a snap shot to post on NSC.

 

[User removed 4]

I Won't tell you where I saw the jogger but will hide in bushes to get a snap shot to post on NSC.

you're going to end up nicked mate !!!

 

[The Uninvited Guest]

you're going to end up nicked mate !!!

Oh well, when I find out who she is and where she lives I'll let you know.

 

[patchamalbion]

lovely and sunny in bristol again now aswell just saw a cracking pair of JUGS on my way down to the bookies,popped in my local aswell which is a big rovers pub,spoke to the landlord and he said how impressed he was at our support last night,he said louder than millwall and leicester and they had more.also says hope we stay up even though we have beaten them twice in a row in bristol now.

 

[¤DãŃn¥ §êãGüLL¤]

Perverts

 

[little al]

Gay men go to the hairdresser, real men go to the barber. Have a think about it

 

[element]

No wonder so many babies are born in January and February...

First sign of good weather and everyone is at it like knives

 

[Twinkle Toes]

Gay men go to the hairdresser, real men go to the barber. Have a think about it

I have: & it doesn't make any sense to me.

ps Anyway, doesn't everybody just go to get their hair cut?