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My mother bought every young boy we know a pair of shota shorts. I had to keep leaving the room in order to giggle manically (and brush plot ideas out of my head).

(for those who don't know what shota shorts are...er, not explaining it).

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Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

My mother bought every young boy we know a pair of shota shorts. I had to keep leaving the room in order to giggle manically (and brush plot ideas out of my head).

(for those who don’t know what shota shorts are…er, not explaining it).