tagExhibitionist & VoyeurThe Coming of Doug Priaps 02

The Coming of Doug Priaps 02


A Gushing Report

The following summer the spectacle began. My wife and I had rented a house at the naturist club we belonged to down the Shore. I didn't realize Doug had rented the place next to ours until a few weeks into our stay down there.

We were staying in a lovely three-floor Victorian with a view of the ocean from the front porch. We'd rented the house on and off for years, and the neighbor next to us had forever been a shrivelled up old gentleman who you rarely saw. His house seemed always dark and quiet.

I had set up my study on the second floor, which featured a clear view of the always-dark cupola of the old man's beautiful Queene Anne across the way. I was helping one of my grad students long distance with her treatise on This Side of Paradise, and I needed to get away from the sporadic rowdiness of the beach crowd and clubhouse.

I spent weeks up there without seeing or hearing anything, until one evening a light came on in the circular room across the way. In strode a strongly built, overly tanned man wearing only a pair of absurd wraparound sunglasses. I would've recognized him instantly anyway, but his massive dong left no doubt who he was: Doug Priaps, to whose otherwordly endowment I had been exposed some time back when the club chairwoman, Sharon Porter, had taken upon herself to play with Doug only to find herself drenched in a pool of his semen.

If Doug saw me, he gave no sign of recognition. He headed into the bathroom beyond the room and came out, his giant member on full display. It hung down so far that it dropped below the window sill, and when Doug sat down in a leather couch facing the window, I could see it spill across his right leg like a length of thick rope carelessy tossed in his lap.

After a few moments, a woman entered whom I recognized immediately. It was Susan, a nubile African-American woman and longtime club member who had never once been associated with any of the occasionally salacious dealings you heard about around the club. She took a seat facing away from me, twisting her braided hair in one hand and talking to Doug, who seemed to say very little.

I tried to focus on my reading, but it was useless. I put the book down and stared at the two of them in the room across the way. Although I was only maybe 30 feet from them in another house, they could theoretically see my just as easily as I could them, but Doug betrayed no indication that he noticed me. The afternoon sun shone down, and a patch of sunlight fell directly across Doug's crotch. I saw the sleeping behemoth stir and begin to rise; soon it looked as though Doug had a flesh-colored shotgun sprouting from between his legs that was pointed directly at Susan's face.

She wasted no time and was soon hard at work, bent over Doug's huge cock and bobbing fiercely, her glorious, dimpled ass cheeks pointed directly at the window and me; underneath I could see her exposed cleft, clearly open and sopping wet.

Suddenly Susan reeled back as if she'd been struck. Doug's penis bounced mercilessly as it shot off again and again, firing ropes of come all over the poor woman, who was laughing and holding up her hands in mock fright. A number of droplets splattered on the window, and indeed Doug never bothered to clean any of the semen that accumulated there over the course of the entire summer.

When the show was over and Doug's member had dwindled to its still-impressive pre-tumescent state, Susan got up and strode over to the bathroom beyond and began toweling off her face. Doug remained sitting, either musing or catatonic. Ultimately he shut the light off and they both went downstairs. I realized that my hardon was raging from witnessing the scene, and, after it subsided a little, I rushed downstairs.

Susan was saying farewell to Doug on the porch, wearing a massive smile, her breasts gleaming as if they'd been recently rubbed down with oil. She'd done a pretty decent job cleaning up Doug's mess, although there remained a few flecks of white residue in her dark, lovely hair. After she departed, Doug stood there on the porch, his face a mask, rubbing off his prick with a towel.

I stepped out and said hello, and gave him some friendly advice: his behavior on the porch could be misread by some stodgy folks as masturbation and thereby grounds for dismissal from the club--no public sexual activity was permitted, technically, although there was endless tales of hanky-panky going on on the sly. Doug stared at me for a moment, and I actually almost got afraid, but then he gave his slight smirk and thanked me. He remembered me as the spectator at his earlier encounter with Sharon Porter. I asked him if he wanted to accompany me on a walk around the club and, after tossing his towel aside, he agreed.

We toured the entire club that afternoon: the basketball, volleyball, and tennis courts; the pool; the bar and lounge in the club house. Wherever we went we were preceded by Doug's inhumanly large dick swinging away, and needless to say it got him a lot of attention. Even in an environment where people were conditioned to nudity on an everyday basis, Doug's grotesque cock was a source of amazement and wonder. Women craned their necks and nearly bent over backwards to get a look at the immense tool. Often, men who saw it turned their heads away in what seemed like disgust or surprise, pretending as if they hadn't noticed. One young blonde woman who was bussing table in the lounge did such a double take when she saw the monstrosity that she dropped an armful of plates and glasses. Ever the gentleman, Doug stopped to help her pick up, his huge cock drooping lazily on the ground as he kneeled. "Don't get cut on the glass," the girl said, pointing down at his dick and some shards, her face red.

From that point on, Doug and I were constant walking companions, taking afternoon strolls around the resort and beach and even exploring some of the small wildland areas around the club's perimeter. He seemed to forgive me my singular affectation, an ever present safari hat, so I in turn forgave him his ludicrous, ever-present sunglasses. He was always quiet and hard to read, but amiable enough. He rarely volunteered information about himself, and never once boasted of his sexual exploits. On more than one occasion he was stopped by female hikers or joggers from the club, who made it plain that they were more interested in staring in awe at his gargantuan prick than in actually talking to him. Usually these meetings would result in Doug giving me a curt nod and disappearing for a few minutes with his admirer (or admirers) behind a copse of trees or rocky outcropping. When they would emerge some time later, the woman--or on one occasion, women--would usually be grinning and lathered in come, trying desperately to wipe the stuff off. Doug would come back with that unchanging, enigmatic smirk on his face, his dong usually dripping semen along the ground with each step.

The rest of that summer there was an endless parade of female visitors to Doug's house. Sharon Porter was a regular, and on many occasions my wife and I could hear her cries emanating from Doug's cupola, a unnerving mixture of pain and joy. It was on one such occasion, one evening after seeing a bow-legged and clearly shaken and red-in-the-face Sharon waddle down the path from Doug's house, that I realized my wife had never even met Doug.

Rose, ten years my junior, was an easy laugh and would scold me if I told you she looked a bit like Marilyn Monroe, had the movie star lived into her 50s. She had an extraordinarily curvaceous figure and thin, blonde hair than almost look white and which she usually wore in a bob. Though she lacked the beauty mark, she shared the same cherubic features, the same pouty lips, the same exceptional curves. Despite her age she was still getting ogled by guys at the club, young and old.

I broached the subject of Doug with her and she seemed interested in meeting my walking companion. We decided that we'd drop by on him the next day after lunch. I called Doug and we agreed to meet at his place around one the following day.

At the appointed time, Rose and I wandered over, heading over to the side door and bearing a gift of wine. The door was slightly ajar. I knocked once, then again, then rang the bell. No answer. From inside I could make out faint noises. Although the club had always been a peaceful place and I never recalled a crime taking place there, I began to feel somewhat concerned. Most people locked their doors, and Doug knew we were coming.

I cautiously opened the door and went in. Rose followed. The sounds were getting louder as we approached the front of the house. It was a loud squeaking noise, like a mop being yanked across a floor or a rubber ball being rolled vigorously in somebody's hands.

I rounded the corner to a wondrous sight. Doug was standing implacably in front of the bay windows in the living room, staring down. The young lady who bussed tables at the clubhouse was sitting on the floor with her back against the sofa, elbows propped up against it. She was wearing her clunhouse apron, but nothing else. She had succeeded where dear Sharon had failed: she had taken the entirety of Doug's ponderous dick head into her delicate mouth and was chugging away pleasantly, emitting small whimpers of pleasure that were almost drowned out by the wet squeaking of Doug's prick.

When she saw me appear she pulled off it abruptly, smiling naughtily and wiping some drool from her chin. I grinned back at her and shook my head in disbelief.

The pair had been performing in full view of the home's huge bay windows. Anyone on the beach or passing by the front of the house would easily have seen Doug's colossal rigidity and the ensuing suckfest.

Then Rose rounded the corner. She gasped and flushed hotly. If she was unable to figure out what had been going on by the sight of Doug's huge boner mere inches from the young woman's face, she couldn't miss the sheen of saliva still on his pulsating knob.

Doug turned towards us, and his enormous prick swung around like a baseball bat. I couldn't help but be shocked anew by the sight of the thing up close. Fully erect, it seemed even bigger than last time I had seen it. It was almost the deep purple of an eggplant. Its cut hood, soaked with the woman's spittle, was rolled back like a cobra. The huge, hideous head seemed to glower at us like some fat, throbbing eye. The entire shaft trembled as blood raced through it. Doug's two gigantic testicles bounced ever so slightly against his hairy, muscular thighs.

Doug looked at us with his awkward smile, which I returned.

Rose mouth wad agape. "We didn't mean to intrude--" she began, but Doug waved her concerns aside.

I introduced Rose and Doug in turn introduced Elaine, the woman from the clubhouse. Even as we made our courtesies I was aware that Rose's eyes were still glued to Doug's stiff one.

Elaine went to the kitchen to make coffee. Doug sat down, his erection subsiding. His prick was draped over one knee like some strange bald pet. Rose sat on the sofa across from him, while I sat to her left in a wicker chair.

"I'd heard the rumors," she told Doug, "but Harry here didn't inform me that it was his waking partner whose giant schlong has all the ladies of the club in an uproar." It occurred to me that I had left out that one salient detail when I talked to Rose about my trips with Doug.

Elaine brought the coffee in on a tray and placed in on the low table in the middle of the room. She had doffed her work apron and I couldn't have been happier about it. She had a perfect golden tan with no tan lines. She was small boned, although she had a slim waist and wide hips. I noted with delight her perky breasts and neatly trimmed pubic hair.

We made some trivial chit chat, with Rose blatantly staring Doug's resting penis all the while. Elaine gave me a sideward glance and smiled.

It wasn't long before Rose returned the topic of conversation to Doug's dick.

"It must be tiring, walking around with Harry all day long and carrying all that extra weight between your legs," Rose said, arching her eyebrows.

Doug shrugged, then stood up, his prick unwinding and sailing free. He pranced about the room a few times, skipping and jumping. All eyes were on his huge, swaying dong, which ticked back and forth like a hideous pendulum. The women were spellbound by it.

To punctuate the show, Doug lazily jerked his hips twice, twirling his enormous member like a propeller. We all laughed, and he sat back down.

"It's not so bad," he said.

"I'll say," said Rose. She excused herself and went to the bathroom.

I turned to Elaine and grinned. "You know," I said, "It's no big deal about what we saw happening in here earlier." I recounted to her the first time I met Doug in Sharon Porter's office, and talked about Sharon's irresistible but finally futile urge to try and fit Doug's giant fist-like cock head into her mouth. Elaine listened, all smiles. I neglected to tell her of the numerous attempts I'd seen in Doug's upstairs room, all of which invariably ended in a plume of jism.

Rose joined us again. Soon both women's nipples--with Elaine's breasts the size of apples, Rose's the size of melons--were hard. Their eyes were wide with wonder. I followed their gaze.

Doug's erection had returned with a vengeance. The pole was throbbing without restraint. It was so large he could have easily reached his solar plexus with the tip. The prick jutted out over the coffee table. It seemed to be pointing at Rose, an unasked question.

"Sharon's a good woman," Doug mused, caressing the length of his impossibly long shaft. The fleshy flap of skin beneath his dick head wobbled.

Already pale, Rose blanched. She stop staring for a moment at Doug's penis and slowly looked at me, then turned back to that quivering organ. Rarely had I seen her so inflamed with lust. Her lower lip trembled. She crossed and uncrossed her arms. I knew what she wanted.

I patted her knee. "It's okay," I told her. "This is something you just have to do. Go ahead."

Rose studied Doug and his erection. "May I..." She could hardly get the words out.

Doug answered by kicking the floor and turning his chair so he was in profile, to give us--and, of course, anyone who happened to look through those large windows--a better view of the proceedings. His fully engorged dick dipped up and down like it had a life of its own.

Elaine took Rose by the hand and led her over to the prick. Rose got down on her knees before it. Elaine brushed back her hair from her face tenderly.

The next part would be more difficult. Elaine used two hands to raise the dick up so it pointed right at Rose's chin.

Rose gingerly pushed back the wattles of skin to reveal Doug's tremendous exposed glans. The swollen head was the size of a beer can. She opened her mouth and guided it inside. To my surprise, almost the entire head fit.

Rose began to gobble away at the cock. The warm slapping sound we'd first heard when we arrived filled the room. She paused only for a moment to disengage and remark, "This is amazing," only to turn back immediately and redouble her labors.

Elaine stood behind Rose, kneading her shoulders for a time. The lovely young woman then walked over and sprawled spread eagle on the couch. She reached down and deftly inserted two fingers into her pussy while working her clit with her other hand. Her mouth formed a perfect "O."

I watched Rose slurping away, helpless to control my own erection. My paltry 6-inch cock, less than half the size of Doug's monster appendage, rose up, red and aching.

Elaine saw this and gave me a pitying glance. I shrugged and put down my mug as Rose whimpered, greedily gulping on Doug's huge dik. Doug, as usual, looked on without expression, as if this was the natural state of things: women saw his dick, and fell down and worshipped it.

Elaine got up and sauntered over, her lovely small breasts jiggling with each step, and sat at my feet. Unbidden, she grabbed my dick and began stroking it in time with Rose's rhythmic sucking. I put my hands behind my head and exhaled--I knew I wouldn't last long, and soon I had shot my load all over Elaine's dainty fingers and onto the floor.

Rose lapped the prick ferociously. Doug's expression never changed. He arched his back and turned his face up to the ceiling, raising his arms languidly over his head.

Then Doug's gigantic balls contracted up to the base of his dick.

"Mrs. Black," Doug said, tapping Rose on the shoulder. "I'm gonna blow."

Rose slowly eased Doug's massive head from her mouth with a pop, but it was too late. The dick's eye opened and covered Rose's awestruck face thoroughly with semen.

Doug stood up. Taking matters into his own hands, he turned the jerking, firing cock away from Rose and aimed it at the table. Ropes of come shot across the sugar bowl and coffee pot. One blast actually knocked a mug clean off the table. A dollop landed on the sofa next to Elaine. With both hands on his cock, Doug wrested it back and forth across the table. Load after load landed on it, coating the settings with semen. The air stank of coffee grinds and spunk.

When it was all done, Doug let his limp penis fall from his grasp. It dangled down near his knees. The head shone as globules of cream continued to trickle onto the floor. In his glasses I saw the reflection of my wife, her angelic face slathered with frothy ejaculate.

"Welcome to the club, Doug," Rose sighed, wiping a tear of his come from her eye.

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