tagExhibitionist & VoyeurFully Exposed: The Big Exhibit

Fully Exposed: The Big Exhibit


People spilled outside the gallery, sipping champagne and laughing softly. It was located in the back courtyard of a prewar building in the old part of city, and I was glad Eva had given me directions to it. I had the distinct feeling that I'd been there before, but I didn't fully recognize the place: the windows and entrance had been covered over with black paper so that you couldn't see in. Next to the door was a large sign warning: AT LARGE SHOW NO MINORS 18 AND UP ONLY!

It was crowded inside. The first room opened on a single, singularly decorated wall, around which clustered more than 20 viewers. On the wall was a blown-up print of a photo of an absolutely gigantic penis. The image was in black-and-white and measured more than 15 feet across and 10 feet down, but even so, the huge organ's qualities were shocking. The shot focused squarely on the crotch of an unidentified man, his arms and hands out of frame, standing against a bleach white backdrop. His prodigious dick drooped out from a curly mass of black pubic hair down to his knees, its bulbous, exposed glans staring obscenely out from the bottom of the shaft.

I was riveted by the enormity of it, and suddenly shook myself out of my reverie. Around me thronged dozens of other gallery goers, all staring shamelessly at this massive, evil-looking cock. I was at once amazed and slightly disgusted. One woman stared up at it, unmoving, her mouth hanging open. Next to her was a sign announcing the exhibit: "At Large," a photo series by Eva Sondesstrom.

I left the room only to find myself in a maze of long gallery hallways, all filled with oversized portraits of that same giant, slightly repugnant prick. In the rest of the photos, the subject was extended to its full length, and although the size was difficult to estimate due to the changed size of the prints, it was still impressive--I guessed it was well over a foot long, and at some points the trunk was as wide as one of the champagne bottles carried about by the workers there. The man's hands were never visible. It was as if his cock was some distended, horrible idol, utterly anonymous, his pubic hair neatly trimmed back, the better to display it.

The halls were full of women, agog and cackling. Though there were some men hovering around, it was clear that many more females were in attendance at the opening. All seemed to flow about in a slight daze, as if weirdly enchanted by the sight of that huge dick and its flesh-ringed, menacing head. In some cases the head shone, as if flashing back a bit of the camera's unmoving gaze.

Each portrait had a different title that leaned toward the absurd. In "Mug Shot," the erection was shown facing the camera and then again in profile, as in a police lineup. "Ring toss" had a woman's hands holding a ring ready to throw it onto the outstretched cock, on which another two large rings already swung. "At The Window" found the humongous dickhead pushed up against the glass of a house; the back of a blonde woman's head could be seen staring up a the window. "Hole in wall" had the dick protruding from a glory hole, while "On A String" had it bound tightly with a string that stretched out of frame.

As I moved into another room, the photos and situations became even more elaborate. In "Moustache," the focus was on a woman's smiling face looking straight at the camera; the huge dong ran from left to right directly under her nose, and the size disparity of her face to the the cock merely emphasized how big it truly was. In "Eye To Eye," the same female model was lined up with her pupil looking straight into the eye of the cock, like some ridiculous showdown. In "At The Movies," the model was shown at the top right of a theater filled with numerous other people, reaching into a very large tub of popcorn--and instead finding that supersized dickhead sticking out and up at her (in this case, the nameless man's bare chest and torso were visible, but his hands were out of sight.) In all of them, the cock took on this Dadaist, alien quality, like some strange animal that is being photographed in the wild, unknowing and unreasoning in its raging heat.

The gallery was full of people just standing there in wonder, staring up at myriad images of this monster prick. I thought I noticed one older woman rubbing herself gently between the legs as she gazed longingly at one of the photos.

I moved on through the crowds of onlookers. One photograph titled simply "Sandwich" had the schlong stuck between pieces of bread, piled high with assorted toppings and sitting on top of a plate. "Snake in the Grass" saw the giant cockhead sticking out from tall grasses (the dick's owner must have been lounging somewhere in the grass, otherwise concealed but for his cock), while "In the Headlights" saw the dick up against a brick wall, illuminated only by a car's headlights. In a photo called "Stick Shift/Pole Position," the blonde model was seen from behind--the photographer must've been in the back seat. The woman was reaching into the passenger seat, her tiny hand futilely attempting to hold onto his vast erection.

"Long Drink of Water" was a shot of the cock being jammed into a glass, which caused the water inside to overflow onto the man's forbidding testicles. "Money In The Meter" was the first, ostensibly hardcore shot of the series: an action still of the dick ejaculating onto a parking meter, come splattering on the handle. An older man with a safari hat and a woman I assumed was his wife, a slightly pudgy but attractive little piece, stood there gaping at it. "Isn't that illegal?" the woman wondered breathlessly.

"Pour A Stiff One" had the blonde again wrestling with the cock, this time wrenching it and trying to coax some ejaculate into a cocktail glass. "In The Rain" simply showed the member reclining on a street in a downpour, droplets streaming down the fully erect dick. "Snowballs," meanwhile, found the dick and its attendant gonads reclining in the snow. I was left to ponder how this massive hunk of meat could possibly stay hard in such freezing temperatures.

"Out Of The Box" featured the blonde woman holding her hands up in fright as the dickhead emerged, a glistening tear of come from its tip, from an unwrapped gift box. "Rising Sun" showed the cock in relief, a silhouette, standing straight up, the sunrise somehow miraculously captured behind it.

There were many and more of these photos, all black and white, all featuring the same profane prick, its owner faceless and barely acknowledged, starring in various silly situations, sometimes spurting, sometimes still, sometimes being handled by the blonde woman. All the photos had somewhat punning titles: "XYZ," "Wood Working," "Under The Mistletoe," "Seasonal Wreath," "Poker," "Taming The Dragon," "One-Eyed Monster," "Cupid's Arrow," "Under The Hood," "Sackula," "The Full Package," and so on. Three large rooms full of people, all staring entranced by this supernaturally large endowment captured on film. I soon realized that my own dick was alert and ready, aroused by the sight of the spectacle.

As the night wore on, the crowds dwindled until the place was virtually empty save for a few hardy souls. I had finally found Eva, and she took me to the gallery office for the after-party. Here I ran into Sharon, a lustrous redhead who I remembered as a good friend of Eva's, along with a slick-haired guy in a leisure suit wearing a pair of wraparound sunglasses; the safari hat-wearing man, whom I learned was a college professor, and his comely wife, a somewhat older lady by the name of Rose. Finally there was a brunette woman, maybe in her late 30s, with a strained but still attractive face and dark eyes who introduced herself to me as Vicky, the gallery owner and a former performance artist. Eva made introductions and smoked. I poured myself another glass of champagne.

"Not your usual subject matter, Eva," Vicky said.

"No," Eva said, smiling. "But still compelling."

"It'd be even more interesting if we knew who the owner of that tremendous cock was," Vicky said. She held her empty glass out to me and I poured it full.

"Perhaps," Eva said, "But that would ruin the fun. The sexiness of it comes from the mystery. You don't know who has that massive dick. And you don't know where it's been. It could belong to that guy sitting opposite you on the subway, or it could be the guy next door. It could've been coming on the very parking meter you were using when you drove here..." She grinned wickedly. "We could have taken those images in your very backyard."

"Mmmm," Vicky cooed.

"I for one," Rose said, "Can vouch that it's not this guy over here." She gestured to her husband, who flushed red and smiled. pained.

"I still wouldn't mind knowing," Vick went on. "I could give him a good home." She cupped a hand around her own crotch. I bet he's not been able to get very deep into many ladies, but this cunt has often been complained about as being 'like a cavern' and a 'dick swallower.' I'm sure we'd make a fine match. When I was doing performance art, I used to take this ornate dildo, as long as a broom handle and twice as thick. In one piece, I would lay down on this altar-like table..."

The room got quiet. Sharon was gawking, and I followed her eyes. I was the guy in the leisure suit. His pants leg was bulging like a ghost had jammed a foot into it. There was a ripping sound.

Eva laughed. "Vicki, meet Doug," she said.

A moment later, Doug's trousers were on the floor in a heap by his ankles. His cock rose mightily in front of him. It was the same dick that Eva had captured in her many photographs. In real life, it was almost more off-putting than in the photos--at least in the images you could pretend it was somehow faked. In real life it was enormous. A good half-foot below it hung two testicles the size of grapefruits. It was a dark brown color, and its grotesque head bobbed visibly; underneath the glans a wad of purplish skin wagged back and forth with the throbbing. It was a feat of architecture for the man's body to keep something of that size aloft.

"How do you do?" Vicki said. She placed the champagne glass down on a nearby desk, then got on her hands and knees.

She crawled toward the dick reverently, then looked up at it. I could smell her perspiration, and waves of heat rolled off the pulsating dick, swollen with blood. Vicki opened her mouth. Her lips spread wide, but, try and she might, the head was too large for her.

Sharon walked over casually to the man they called Doug. She put one hand under his cock. The sheer size of it dwarfed the voluptuous woman--it was nearly as wide as her hips, and from the side it could have passed for some hideous belt. She knelt next to Vicki and tried to suck it, managing only to get the very tip into her mouth. Squatting next to her, Vicki put a hand up and smoothed a roll of the encrusted hood back away from the cap.

Rose cast a glance at her husband, then, smiling, handed him her drink. I could see he was sporting a pup tent by now, as well.

As Eva watched, smoking in silence, Rose got down by the other two women. She opened her mouth and slid the huge head in. It made a loud squeaking sound as it drove through her lips. Doug stepped forward, pushing it in a little more, causing Rose's eyes to widen momentarily. She began to gorge herself on it noisily as the other women knelt alongside her, marveling at its size.

Finally, Rose detached herself and, grabbing the head, passed it back to Sharon, who forced it into her mouth. After a few quick sucks, Vicki made another attempt, this time succeeding in forcing it into her mouth. Doug began to stroke its underside, and soon Sharon was cupping his balls and lending a hand.

Rose got up and took her champagne back from her husband, tossing it back. She then walked over to Vicki, who was now bent over the cock, slurping and smacking. Vicki's ample derriere was raised high in the air. Rose pulled her dress down, exposing two chalky white asscheeks. Underneath you could Vicki's plentiful bush shaking as she worked. Rose struck her a few times, bringing a red flush to Vicki's cheeks. Vicki emitted a quiet whimper as Rose spanked, but Doug's giant cockhead virtually prevented the sound from leaving her mouth.

Finally Vicki pulled off the dick. She was breathing heavily, and her face was red from effort. Doug continued to jerk himself off, his testicles jiggling. Vicki turned around, pulling her skirt all the way down, showing off a pair of wonderful, statuesque legs. Sharon and Rose each took hold and arm, and laid her across an office chair so her upturned pussy was entirely exposed. The gash smiled redly, dripping wet.

I cast a glance over at Rose's husband. By now he had snaked his own modest penis out from his fly and was tugging it and twisting it in his hands.

Doug held himself up with two hands. He walked steadily towards Vicki, his unnaturally large member turning various shades of crimson and purple. He jammed it into her. Vicki let out a cry that was pain intermingled with pleasure. Doug stopped, then pushed on. There was a sound like a noise of a large stone being thrown into a pond, and the air was heavy with musk and what smelled almost like cinnamon. Amazingly, he continued to dive deeper into her, his huge penis gradually engulfed by Vicki's gaping vagina.

Doug seemed himself surprised. His face, which had been throughout the show a whimsical leer, changed to a grin of measured delight. He began pumping, pulling back nearly a foot before plowing ahead into Vicki. By now the woman was laughing, tears of joy streaming down her face. She cried out.

Rose and Sharon braced Vicki's arms as the woman was slammed again and again roughly up against the chair. Rose freed one hand, which snaked around Doug's backside and began fondling his ass. His stomach slapped up against Vicki's vibrant buttchecks as he pummeled her, and he grabbed the back of her shirt to hold on.

After what must have been ten minutes, Doug pulled out. His cock gleamed with Vick's fluids. The head nodded up and down like some enraged beast, ready to explode. A cascade of come shot out. It cleared Vicki's back and landed in her hair. He fired off, and a shower of semen soon covered the back of Vicki's shirt and asscheeks. He came perhaps a dozen times, maybe more. Sharon and Rose ran their hands through the ejaculate on Vicki's smooth back, as if rubbing down a car. Vicki's shirt was soaked through; it looked as though she had been blasted by firehose. The floor beneath her was slick with come.

Eva leaned back against the wall, smoking away nonchalantly. Vicki turned back and shot her a glance. She grabbed Doug's huge, softening cock and held it up to her cheeks. "Well," she said to Eva, "how about a photo?"

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