June 24, 2008
The above post is from Saraliz: True Story. A friend of mine from NYC, she’s riding the subway, sitting down next to one of the doors, minding her own business. Suddenly, she feels something on her shoulder. She looks over, it’s a penis. It’s resting on her shoulder. Now, you might think that you’d scream at this point, that somebody might see what she’s seeing and tackle the guy, turn him into the police and his picture would be in the NYPost the next morning: “SICKO’S PENIS TAKES A NAP ON COMMUTER’S SHOULDER”. But no. Nobody did anything. She didn’t scream. She couldn’t say anything. Just physically couldn’t. She simply gets up, moves to the door on the other side of the train and walks off at the next stop, mortified.

The above post is from Saraliz:

True Story. A friend of mine from NYC, she’s riding the subway, sitting down next to one of the doors, minding her own business. Suddenly, she feels something on her shoulder. She looks over, it’s a penis. It’s resting on her shoulder. Now, you might think that you’d scream at this point, that somebody might see what she’s seeing and tackle the guy, turn him into the police and his picture would be in the NYPost the next morning: “SICKO’S PENIS TAKES A NAP ON COMMUTER’S SHOULDER”. But no. Nobody did anything. She didn’t scream. She couldn’t say anything. Just physically couldn’t. She simply gets up, moves to the door on the other side of the train and walks off at the next stop, mortified.