School Naughtiness
The B3ta Confessional is open. What was the naughtiest thing you ever did at school?
( , Thu 8 Sep 2011, 12:55)
The B3ta Confessional is open. What was the naughtiest thing you ever did at school?
( , Thu 8 Sep 2011, 12:55)
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First post from a disgusting little boy.
This is not classically naughty behaviour per se, but the incident was sufficiently shame filled enough to ruin my last year at Secondary School, so here goes.
The year is 1984. I am 15, and bumbling along at school, suitably aided by my best friend/shadow Dominic. We were both fairly intelligent kids, but quite breathtakingly unfocused, and so had made it to fourth year without anything remotely resembling an academic achievement between us.
By this time, most of the teachers had pegged us as a bad influence on each other, and had separated us in any classes we took together. Only one teacher, our student English teacher, had allowed us to remain seated together during her lessons. It was during this period that our creative naughtiness was allowed its oxygen.
I can’t remember who had thought of it first, but at some point during one of these lessons we had decided that what we really needed, what our lives would not be complete without, was a chart detailing every female teachers vagina, as imagined in our fevered adolescent minds. It was a silly throwaway idea that gathered momentum as soon as we started writing things down.
The basic idea was that we would compile a full list of female teachers. Alongside each name there would be a description of said fanny, what it might feel like, etc. Furthermore, there would be an accompanying drawing. This would provide visual evidence of neatness, and hair mass. The problem for me was that this was all being done in the back of an exercise book I had for rough work. In itself, this is not that much of an issue, the book was never handed in for marking, and we only ever work on it during that one lesson we’re together. A lesson being conducted by the only teacher who had never separated us, and who was far more tolerant of us being dicks in the classroom.
My downfall came during another lesson. Not any other lesson either, but the only lesson on my timetable whereby I was the only boy. Somehow, the book had managed to find it’s way out of my bag and onto the floor. It was subsequently picked up by one of the girls in the class who proceeded to flick through it. It was one of those exquisite moments whereby reality itself seems to be shattering into a billion pieces, right before your own disbelieving eyes.
We’ve all seen the textbook with the big spunking cock in it, but Dominic and I had elevated that into another dimension with our Encyclopaedia Flangica. Eventually the giggling started followed by the passing of the book from one girl to another. By this time my mind had almost snapped. The reality of the situation had to my mind long since slipped out of the back door and fucked off.
The book eventually found its way into the hands of my teacher. She looked at the offending pages and put the book back on my desk.
‘You really are a disgusting little boy’, she says, and walks back to her desk at the front. I’d have preferred a major league bollocking to be honest. This kind of withering dismissal was not what I’d wanted or expected. It had made me the laughing stock of the school, and due to Dominic moving away had made me endure the Fifth year entirely alone. Needless to say, the female teachers were a little reluctant to deal with me as well. Whether that was because I’d hit the nail on the head or not I’ll never know.
( , Mon 12 Sep 2011, 15:43, 5 replies)
This is not classically naughty behaviour per se, but the incident was sufficiently shame filled enough to ruin my last year at Secondary School, so here goes.
The year is 1984. I am 15, and bumbling along at school, suitably aided by my best friend/shadow Dominic. We were both fairly intelligent kids, but quite breathtakingly unfocused, and so had made it to fourth year without anything remotely resembling an academic achievement between us.
By this time, most of the teachers had pegged us as a bad influence on each other, and had separated us in any classes we took together. Only one teacher, our student English teacher, had allowed us to remain seated together during her lessons. It was during this period that our creative naughtiness was allowed its oxygen.
I can’t remember who had thought of it first, but at some point during one of these lessons we had decided that what we really needed, what our lives would not be complete without, was a chart detailing every female teachers vagina, as imagined in our fevered adolescent minds. It was a silly throwaway idea that gathered momentum as soon as we started writing things down.
The basic idea was that we would compile a full list of female teachers. Alongside each name there would be a description of said fanny, what it might feel like, etc. Furthermore, there would be an accompanying drawing. This would provide visual evidence of neatness, and hair mass. The problem for me was that this was all being done in the back of an exercise book I had for rough work. In itself, this is not that much of an issue, the book was never handed in for marking, and we only ever work on it during that one lesson we’re together. A lesson being conducted by the only teacher who had never separated us, and who was far more tolerant of us being dicks in the classroom.
My downfall came during another lesson. Not any other lesson either, but the only lesson on my timetable whereby I was the only boy. Somehow, the book had managed to find it’s way out of my bag and onto the floor. It was subsequently picked up by one of the girls in the class who proceeded to flick through it. It was one of those exquisite moments whereby reality itself seems to be shattering into a billion pieces, right before your own disbelieving eyes.
We’ve all seen the textbook with the big spunking cock in it, but Dominic and I had elevated that into another dimension with our Encyclopaedia Flangica. Eventually the giggling started followed by the passing of the book from one girl to another. By this time my mind had almost snapped. The reality of the situation had to my mind long since slipped out of the back door and fucked off.
The book eventually found its way into the hands of my teacher. She looked at the offending pages and put the book back on my desk.
‘You really are a disgusting little boy’, she says, and walks back to her desk at the front. I’d have preferred a major league bollocking to be honest. This kind of withering dismissal was not what I’d wanted or expected. It had made me the laughing stock of the school, and due to Dominic moving away had made me endure the Fifth year entirely alone. Needless to say, the female teachers were a little reluctant to deal with me as well. Whether that was because I’d hit the nail on the head or not I’ll never know.
( , Mon 12 Sep 2011, 15:43, 5 replies)
Click for Encyclopedia Flangica
If I'd had such a book when I was at school I might have more of a fucking clue what to do with a real life mimsy.
( , Mon 12 Sep 2011, 16:17, closed)
If I'd had such a book when I was at school I might have more of a fucking clue what to do with a real life mimsy.
( , Mon 12 Sep 2011, 16:17, closed)
The saddest part of this tale is that you're still a virgin to this day.
( , Tue 13 Sep 2011, 14:59, closed)
( , Tue 13 Sep 2011, 14:59, closed)
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