I was a tender young chap at the age of twelve, my mother was a strict disciplinarian
and i was shy to the whiles of the sexual nature of things.
It was a bright hot summers day, the sky was brilliant blue dotted with furrows of
brilliant white clouds.The smell of grass , still dotted with dew from
the dawn , filled my eager nostrils as i rushed to play with my chums.
As i rushed towards the play area i was stopped by some burly ruffians with the
abject cause to cease my joy and learn me in the ways of humiliation.
Thusly a set of discoloured fingers where wiped under my nose and the scent of
sweet grass was replaced with the most ghastly noxious fumes. Upon querying my
tormentors of the origin of said vile nostril hair burning smell i was then bundled
into the ladies water closet and roughly tied to a cistern with my own belt.
I spent several hours quietly defecating myself with abject fear trying to avoid
any of the female patrons from discovering me, when a curious occurrence happened.
The head master suddenly burst in , he sounded frantic and bewildered.
I called out for assistance and he opened the cubical door and strolled over to
me nonchalantly. He ran his fingers through my hair , i found this comforting and
stopped crying.
He then proceeded to untie me and take me to his office where we watched hardcore porn
until my parents arrived to chastise me for being a wuss.
(shake'n'bake Tally Ho, Biatch!, Fri 12 Aug 2011, 1:02, 1 reply)

Is this not a little known missing stanza from Wordsworth's The Prelude?
'cept the metre is all fucked up.
(leviticus no longer likes the cut of your gib on, Fri 12 Aug 2011, 10:39, closed)