Author's note: The following story is a work of fiction. Some scenes include nonconsensual sex or abuse that may be disturbing to some readers. If you're one of those readers, please select a different story.
Prologue:
Over the previous year and a half, what I had first considered to be a perverse element in the fabric of my sexual desire had become an accepted integral component needed for full sexual gratification. I had been forced to confront and accept the fact that I was driven by exposing my unsuspecting wife to strangers for their enjoyment (and mine). I had crossed ethical lines in pursuit of my fantasy and achieving that goal had dramatically augmented my sexual satisfaction. I had accepted that candaulism was my potent "kink," in today's parlance.
However, during one of my surreptitious schemes, my unsuspecting wife had been used and inseminated. Although I could have prevented it, at the crucial moment I had come down squarely on the side of letting it happen. Moreover, I continued to be aroused by the fact that my wife considered both the man who inseminated her, as well as his son Kyle, to be of low status and limited intellectual capacity. Grace didn't think either of them were of high enough caliber to be in her social circle, to engage in anything but cursory conversation, or even worth greeting informally. The memory of my wife being physically joined with the old man, the image of her pussy grasping his cock, and the magnitude of her humiliation had she known that she had been impregnated by someone of "such low stature," elicited a range of emotions in me, from self-loathing for setting the scheme in motion to the pinnacle of perverse sexual excitement.
Was I now a cuckold? I suppose so, at least in part. I had been turned on by seeing my wife being fucked, a clear match with typical cuckold fantasies. Additionally, I had been responsible for setting up a situation where my wife was at risk then passively watched as she was inseminated, again a common theme in cuckold dreams. What lay outside the bounds of the typical cuckold fantasy, was that my wife didn't even know she had participated in my cuckolding. It remained extremely important to me that Grace continue to be unaware that I had, in the past, displayed her to strangers, and allowed her to be unknowingly taken.
...
...
Grace's Covert Humiliation (Part 2)
Following the birth of our (or more accurately, my wife's) daughter, Kylie, I did my best to persevere and was able to temporarily quell my candaulism. Kylie looks like my wife's daughter. As Kylie grows and develops, it looks as though she'll acquire many of the same facial features as my wife. Mother and daughter also both have straight blond hair, although Kylie's hair is shade lighter than Grace's owing, probably, to her young age. However, Kylie has hazel rather than blue/grey eyes, matching the eye color of her real dad. Luckily, I have brown eyes so it's easily plausible for Kylie to have hazel eyes. There's also something about the shape of her eyes and nose reminiscent of her biological father.
A friend of mine recently told me she thought Kylie looked like me. I think she was trying to be nice. Well, I guess Kylie and I are both human at least. Fortunately, the baby doesn't have thin grey hair and bad teeth like her real father (at least the baby teeth Kylie has look healthy and strong). Yeah, I shouldn't joke about it but, if I don't, I might start crying. Obviously, I have mixed emotions and undoubtedly always will.
A few months ago while nursing Kylie, I overheard Grace telling the baby, "You're so beautiful. You have the best genes." Kylie is indeed beautiful. And who am I to judge her genes. They may be the "best," and Grace could be right, even though her conclusion is predicated on an assumption that's at least fifty percent wrong.
About six months after delivering, Grace was almost back to her pre-pregnancy form, and now at a year she looks as though she had never been pregnant. She receives a continuous stream of compliments from all quarters. Grace also stopped nursing about a month ago, "because it was time," and so that she could more easily get back to work. Her breasts had surprisingly returned to near their original average (C-cup) size. Honestly, she looks fantastic. We have Kylie in a university daycare near to where we both work on campus.
I found that my fantasies about Grace had also, disturbingly, resurfaced. While falling asleep at night, my mind would revisit events from the previous two years. My wife unknowingly on display for the gratification of strangers, unsuspectingly taking on a large cucumber, Kyle's dad pounding Grace. All the intimate details had been burned into my memory. My obsession smoldered for a time then reemerged back into an inferno. The logistics for satisfying my candaulist fantasies had become more difficult. There was reduced opportunity due to our now overly full schedule. But there was opportunity, nonetheless.
...
While I originally had reservations about my in-laws moving close by, one advantage was that Grace's mom is enthusiastic about babysitting. So Grace and I do have some time, and occasional full weekends, on our own.
"My mom wants to take Kylie for this coming weekend," Grace said. "You have any ideas?"
"That sounds good. Let's go stay at that motel on the lake," I replied. There is a string of interconnected lakes about ninety miles from where we live. Grace and I had traveled there previously to immerse in nature and to relax. I also remembered several details of the eco-friendly motel where we stayed previously. There are only ground floor units and minimal outside lighting so as not to interfere with the night sky. I thought this might work well for what I had planned.
That Friday, Grace came bouncing down the stairs, excited about getting away for the weekend. She was wearing a snug, white, mid-thigh length dress that showed off her athletic figure. She had recently had her blond/light brown hair cut to just past shoulder length and it swung alluringly from side-to-side as she came down the stairs. She had on her matching white sandals with red toenail polish. "It will be excellent to have some time without the baby," she smiled coyly. "I'll concentrate on you this weekend."
How could I object to that? I smiled back.
As we drove up to the lake, Grace wanted to talk about our family. "Our daughter, Kylie, is perfect. She's going to be smart and accomplished just like me... I mean just like us," Grace said. "Now that she's a year old, I'd like to try for a second child. There's no rush. It's not the end of the world if it doesn't happen immediately," she added.
I wasn't sure what to say. It seemed likely that Kylie would be our only child. Although my wife thought my initial vasectomy reversal had been successful, I knew better. Grace's statement caused me to briefly fantasize about the possibility of setting up a repeat of the night last year where I had left Grace unknowing and vulnerable to Kyle's predatory and abusive dad. I thought about facilitating a repeat of her unsuspecting coupling with the old man, having her carry another baby to term, and giving Kylie a true biological brother or sister.
