Tales of Indecent Exposures

I have had my fair share of strange and surprising penis sightings in my life.

It all started in Italy when I was 21.

Not sure why nasty old Italian men find it necessary to jack-off in broad daylight while actually TRYING to get my attention, but there I was with my long blond hair in the midst of darker skinned foreigners, sticking out like a sore thumb, being the perfect target for every pervert that graced the sidewalks, park benches and bus stops of Florence, Italy.

At first I was appalled by such indecency. Embarrassed, offended, creeped out… but it became less of a shock and more of an expectation during my 3 week vacation that my friends and I actually started to seek these predators out. All we had to do was either listen for a snickering and light slapping sound, or see some rapid arm movement in our periphery and we’d barricade those nasty bastards with cameras in hand, laughing hysterically. Our cackling and pointing at their johnsons flopping about always made them tuck and zip. Guess they didn’t like that.

My conclusion that only disgusting Italian men in Florence wank-off  to unsuspecting American college girls was proven wrong when I  arrived home and was blasted by the same offence here! Right Here, in Orange County, California. In the affluent neighborhood of Villa Park! I was driving out of my parent’s cul-de-sac, stopped at the stop sign, when some guy in a huge truck drove by me,  noticed me, lifted his pelvis high enough for me to see him holding up his frankfurter and screamed “YYYEEEAAHH!” out of his window.

Whaaa??? Oh boy.

I knew my days of tally-whacker watching were not over when I moved to New York City.

I figured this is the city to see some good wedding tackle.

They’ve got a lot of park benches and alleys, the underground subway is probably a magnet for some good joystick handlers, and since the city is a sea of 3 million pedestrians the occasional perv can probably she-bop completely naked and no one would notice. The world was my Oyster!

It’s unfortunate that I did not have my camera with me when I was at the gym that fateful Friday night. The Cardinal rule for one-eyed trouser snake watching is to always be armed with a camera and I failed miserably. To this day I still regret my haste when I over looked the Cannon Power Shot when packing my gym bag.

With the hopes of working off all the Ben and Jerry’s  I had inhaled the night before while wailing on the phone to my Mom about the audacity of my boyfriend Brian to dump me and say he never loved me in the first place, I hauled my fat ass over to the only available treadmill and started to jog.


It was an odd place for a treadmill to be since it was kind of off to the side and in a weird little nook.

I had nothing to entertain myself while jogging, just the view of the sidewalk on the other side of the window.  As I was working out, the image of someone standing outside started to appear. I had to focus my eyes since it was brighter in the gym than it was out there. After a few moments, it was clear that some guy was standing there staring at me. Just standing there, a mere 3 feet away from where I was. The only thing separating him from me was the floor to ceiling window.

I thought, “Seriously? I can't just jog in peace without some ass hole staring at me?” I tried to make very aggressive eye contact with him, like “Dude, GO AWAY”, but I noticed that his eyes were not on me, they were directed upwards. I followed his gaze and realized there was a TV hanging above me. “OH! The game is on. He’s watching the game.”

No.  Not entirely.

There was a strange movement going on at waist level.  I re-focused my eyes and peered. A woman, who seemed like his girlfriend, was standing next to him, shoulder to shoulder but facing the other way (probably to keep a look-out) and multi-tasking with a backwards monkey slap while getting in some one-armed tricep kickbacks for herself.

I felt compelled to continue jogging and watching his baloney pony as it bopped to and fro in her hand, waiting for the “outcome”.

I was horrified and yet intrigued.

"I cannot believe this is happening right in front of my face! Is anyone else noticing this?" I looked left, I looked right. I was all alone in this experience. Just me and the obviously kinky couple standing under their umbrella mere feet away from me.

"This gym is pretty well lit. They obviously know that I'm working out right here. Why did they pick this particular spot right in front of ME? I don't get it!"

But I kept watching.. and watching... becoming more and more nauseated.

I kept telling myself, “Look away! You’re going to see it come out! His heat-seeking love missile is going to launch and you’re going witness it!  Look away, lassie, look away!!”, yet my eyes refused to comply.

Then, POW!  At approximately 30 miles per hour the triumphant moment happened.  Like water in a pressurized hose being released, his home made yogurt burst forth from his glory hole with untamed vigor.

Weird that the couple seemed totally unfazed by it. Just pump pump, spew spew, fold and button, and they were off as if it was a nightly ritual, stepping over the cloudy white puddle on their way to his grandmother’s house probably.

All the blood rushed out of my face
My legs started to give way
My stomach did a triple back flip
I stumbled off the treadmill as the conveyor belt kept turning
I ran to the water fountain
Dry heaved over the little drain while making a spectacle of myself
Sipped some water
Sat down
Then cried like a traumatized four year old girl