There once was a grandson named Steve,
Who tiptoed to Grandma’s lace drawer with a flutter and heave.
Grandma caught him twirling so sweetly and shy,
In her soft satin slips hugging every new sigh,
But her eyes only twinkled with mischievous glee.
From that day she kept secrets so tender and warm,
Quietly choosing wee gifts to awaken his charm.
Pretty panties with lace that would kiss and embrace,
Silky stockings that whispered along secret places,
And cherry gloss leaving his lips shiny with grace.
Yet Steve loved her girdles the most — especially the new pink one she bought,
With everything matching: bra, garters, and all that he sought.
The delicate pink girdle hugged him so snug and so right,
Holding everything neatly with gentle delight,
Making him feel extra pretty and wonderfully tight.
She slipped in some toys nestled snug out of sight,
In blush-colored boxes tied neatly just right.
But nothing compared to that pink matching set,
Which made secret evenings feel warm and so wet,
Bringing the sweetest pink blushes and trembles he’d get.
One quiet night Grandma smiled with a knowing soft glow,
As a playful idea began softly to grow.
She thought of her tall, charming black friend stopping by,
A “happy coincidence” under warm evening sky,
Wondering how sweetly her girdled-up Steve might sigh.
Grandma watched with a warm, secret thrill,
Helping her darling grandson blossom and feel. 😊
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