So the once annual Sexpo exhibition returned to Sydney this year, and I figured hey, fuck it, why not try my luck again? I say ‘once’, as Sexpo 2014 was seemingly such a tremendous dud that the entire event skipped over us last year for the first time since it started being a thing in the mid-90s.
I wrote about that here, but to save you the trouble, Sexpo 2014 was legitimately depressing.
Not even just from an unfair ‘what’s the Japanese onahole scene like lol’ point of view. It was the equivalent of fucking a frozen loaf of bread – roughly splitting apart each and every slice – just to feel something in the decaying remains of life. Anything.
This year’s Sexpo marked the event’s 20th anniversary though, which is pretty significant. I figured they’d be stepping their game back up. They’d have to, surely. It’s *the current year* after all.
Gone are the dial-up internet days where Sexpo was a big deal that’d be covered on the local family-friendly six o’clock news.
Held at the Hordern Pavilion (casually buried behind a few trees) things already looked up from the get-go. Not just from the crowd, but because there was a plastic cup with a condom just sitting around near the entrance.
It was a sign. Like someone couldn’t decide between having a beer or a fuck, instead deciding to order water and waltz into the sunset.
Once our tickets were scanned, it was through to some incredibly apathetic pole dancing (drawing a crowd of literally one old dude just stroking his beard) before going straight to the retail hall. Again, people! People were actually here.
Retail stalls, too! The place was full of ’em. A stark contrast to 2014 which was a fucking ghost town.
Speaking of Stark…
Huuurrr. I have no idea what look I was actually going for here. But sure, falling asleep will have to do!
And here’s my mate Mike totally being cool with letting me put this photo of him on the internet. He may or may not be standing behind a cardboard cutout.
But yeah, there was a fair bit to see and do at this year’s Sexpo. Obviously most of the stalls were permanently set to ‘Australia tax’ meaning everything was 14,000% more expensive than buying online (EIGHTY FIVE DOLLARS FOR A BOTTLE OF LUBE), but there were even some onaholes! I was pleasantly surprised.
Tenga had a booth and everything.
Complete with a gross sample egg that they encouraged everyone to touch. To their credit, the staff offered much-needed hand sanitiser afterwards.
This… was a running theme. If you’ve ever wanted to see what an onahole looks like after a few thousand people have fondled it over the space of two days, well… yeah. Pretty much exactly what you’d expect.
This is where onaholes go to die. I couldn’t help but laugh at that fucking radioactive hip above. Wow. When a sex toy’s asshole looks like it needs to be bleached you know something unspeakable happened.
Talking with a staff member, he was telling me people had come up to it and fingered the holes to the point of violently knocking it to the floor. What the hell guys.
From Fleshlights to whatever, there was a decent amount of junk to put on your junk. The Club X stall especially had a loooot of stuff from Outvision I’d never even seen before, which was pretty cool.
And onaholes designed to look like beer bottles? Alright. Nobody would ask questions about why that plastic beer bottle you’ve got under your bed smells like dried sperm.
And if they do? Just gotta reply that you “really like beer” before winking so close to the other person you end up interlocking eyelids with them.
Aside from all that, it really felt like Sexpo 2016 was a lot more active in general than last time. More shows, more talks, more exposed body parts. There was a bondage demonstration I’m glad I got to experience. Not exactly into bondage personally, but it was genuinely fascinating stuff learning all the ins and outs of it.
Things like that are the true strength of sex exhibitions. Real educational Magic School Bus type shit, yeah?
Meanwhile this was a standard 2D video playing on someone’s phone through a pair of goggles.
Early on we kind of got shuffled (ie; sweet-talked) into the ‘Laptorium‘ for an extra $10 each. One of the ladies held my hand and walked me into a weird back room filled with other people grinding against each other.
“$50 and I can give you a lap dance” What? Fuck no. She quickly left.
I dunno, maybe it’s just me, but I see absolutely no appeal in having someone gyrate on my fully clothed crotch in a public area knowing there are others waiting to have their turn. Cool, maybe I’ll get an erection that I can rub out in the toilets afterwards or something?
On that topic, yes the men’s room smelt like someone had dumped an entire shipment of chlorine into a swimming pool.
The wedges were good, 10/10.
Over in the other hall they had the um, ‘Shafter’ ride. It was tempting to sit inside a giant penis for $5, but seeing it in action didn’t inspire much confidence. Not much of a shafting really, more of a gentle poke.
Couldn’t be stuffed hanging around for a pole dancing session on the main stage, but yeah. All up, Sexpo wasn’t too bad this year!
I don’t think I’d bother again, but the general vibe was so much better. SO MUCH. Those bloody nightmare mascots were back though, meaning they likely never left the exhibition hall from last time.
They just haunt the place. Forever.
Look at that poor man. Crushed by tits with inexplicable pubic hair on them while a walking penis monster caresses his ear.
RIP some guy.