Boomer Bloomers!

Sit back, relax, and you can enjoy a narrative of a life chapter. It is all about a Benny Hill moment for a shy boy, so long ago. How did these younger ones appear on our planet in this day and age? Some might wonder, indeed, always check the bloodline, to consider what your grandparents were getting up to. They were the boomers, dear readers, now recalling their younger years with a good sense of humor, and fond memories of attraction. It was all leading to 'off with bloomers' and procreation. Very creative, 'our generation.'

Cole was only eighteen years old, one of the boomer dudes.He had cast off his Christian boyhood uniform, and enrolled in studying English at his city university, living in a college, males only. His new uniform looked like all the other students, blue jeans, sweater, desert boots, coat. His course was predominantly,populated by boomer babes, all very literate and enjoying a well-respected center for learning knowledge.

Despite sharing lectures and tutes with all these lively young women, Cole was very reticent, his teen dreams were full of longings. He blushed and stammered, his upbringing had not included relating to the female gender.

Cole believed in freedom of thought, pacifism, and peace in his world. He hoped he would dodge being conscripted before he was old enough to vote. He joined the more vocal and radical students to protest about his land's participation in overseas conflict. There he could express himself with his writing skills, producing copy for their pamphlets, inventing slogans and making banners.

One evening, a group of young students nurses appeared. Their training hospital was only across the main road from university. They believed in this global protest too, and united with the student movement. A very attractive nurse introduced herself to our hero,Cole.

Sandra smiled, friendly, very pretty, with her long hair brushing Cole's hand as they painted a banner together. Shy boy did not know what to say, but he was impressed by all the support his group were gaining in their city. Everyone was wearing blue jeans, a global emblem of their department of youth, hoping peace was their power, full of ideals to change their world.

The day of the peace protest was bright and sunny. "Our generation" united and marched, Cole was at the front, holding the banner, everyone singing songs with a message, "We shall overcome", and "Blowing in the Wind."

Sandra had turned up with her nursing friends, all in mini-skirts and high heel boots, their flowing hair wafting in the gentle breeze. Sandra had topped her skirt with a see-through blouse and no bra. Cole's eyes kept being drawn to this vivid display of her anatomy. He was aware nurses were good at biology, he was dumbstruck, but kept on marching.

Cole and Sandra sang and cheered, all their future could be impacted by the military at any stage. Cole did really believe in Sandra's right to wear any clothes she liked, she was expressing herself. She did invite him to have a drink with her at the pub at the end of the protest. One beer led to another, loosening up some of Cole's inhibitions.

Cole did not have the faintest idea about why Sandra was interested in him. Being a poetic soul, eventually, Cole wandered back to his college. Did he have some hope of exploring biology with this boomer girl? After all, it was common knowledge around campus that nurses know far more than most doctors, just ask a nurse. So Cole decided to slow down, take it easy, write her some of his epic verse for next time they met.

"I wander lonely up this hill,

Sandra, my love, are you on the pill?"

After all, the pen is a mighty thing, in this game of desire. All perfectly normal for most species on this planet. Cole tossed and turned, switching on his little bedside light, and scribbling, gazing forlornly at his alarm clock.

"Where are you, when I so need you?"

I learn for you, it's only half past two,

What is this shy boy to do?

Shall I fill my gherkin with glue?

Guess I'll be sticking to you,

Oh, what can this shy boy?'

This life chapter page made Sandra laugh, she shared boomer humor. They were the right people, in the right time, but slightly short of a convenient location for removing their boomer bloomers. They were both impoverished, after all, chasing their dreams. Much spontaneous smooching carried on, their objectives were mutual.

Students years passed on wings of time, that was part of the advantages of their youth, things their parents had provided for them. Both Sandra and Cole experienced some family conflict over their peace protesting, bit radical. Their veteran fathers could never understand. The war ended, conscription finished, peace was maintained, Cole was never drafted by the military.

He became an English teacher. He and Sandra grew up, sort of, and joined the taxation system of society. But spinning this yarn can say that everything came good. English teachers can be quite scary, but Cole loved his vocation, he had a respected reputation. Sandra was loyal to him, he still never quite knew what she saw in him. He quickly mastered biology and anatomy with his beloved, overcoming reticence, after they finally found a pad to practice.

Cole soon popped a ring on Sandra before some other swain did. To him, she was the flower of them all. Neither of this happy young couple realized their photos of their early days would come back to haunt them. See-through blouses were young grandmas' focus, with sexy thighs in full display. They could party most of the night, and still turn up to work on time the next day.

Yes, this narrative now relates that Cole and Sandra had seven lively offspring, just like them. Some days they could all be naughty and cheeky, all at once. A couple of times, Cole placed all his young children in his humble wheels, hoping to return them to the maternity unit. Unfortunately, dear younger ones, the stork does not accept rejects. "It's only a stage they are going through!"Cole told Sandra, exasperated.

The scribbler here can affirmatively tell you that Cole and Sandra have reached their golden age, another stage. They could still enjoy their biological fun, after all, virility rates.

Once their multiple grandchildren went home at 5 pm, Cole and Sandra sat down with a nice cuppa and a plate of hot, buttered toast, sedate and slow. Cole was still composing fragments of poetry, "Don't ever leave, let's play Adam and Eve, with no fig leaves..." Off came their boomer bloomers again, sharing love and laughs, and their anatomical needs. Love can be fun, enjoy it with as sense of humor.