The Hand That Rocks The Balls
The other morning I was debating whether or not to call out from work. I hadn’t been feeling my best lately. After the mental debate, the poor girl girl in me with a shopping addiction decided to go to work. I strolled to the train station, swiped in and traveled to my destination. The blue skies told me it would be another boring day, or so I thought. As I’m walking up a flight of stairs swiging my arms casually as everyone does when they walk, the unexpected happened. A caucasian gentlemen in his mid-thirties was walking behind me and as my hands swinged from the front to the back, some how I managed to grope him. I didn’t just tap it or caressed it with my hand, I cupped his entire package. One could even describe it as rocking the organ, the way a loving mother rocks her child to sleep. Revealing to my sense of touch a very big white man. I instinctly let go and turned around to apologize. His face was compleletly red. Mine was about to sink in into my skull. Although my linguistic gifts have been limited to only Spanish and English I apologized in English, Spanish, Cantonese and maybe even in French. He took a step back and stared me in the eyes and made a circle around me avoiding any type of physical contact as he walked away. My question is should I register myself as a sex offender or should I just wait for the court summons?
Hope you guys enjoyed another of my embarrassing tales from the crypt. Like this post if you enjoyed it. Let me know if you have had an embarrassing encounter like mines. I’d love to know.
What Im Wearing:
Forever21: Hat, Top, Jeans
Asos Curve: Leather Jacket
