Grace's Covert Humiliation Ch. 02

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.

All this went through my mind in just an instant. It seemed easiest to simply agree with Grace. "Yes, of course I'm willing to try," I responded.

After we arrived at the motel we went canoeing and then for a short hike along the lake. That evening after dark, while Grace was in the shower, I set up my strategy for trying to expose my wife without her knowledge. Directly across from the foot of the bed was a large mirror spanning the wall between the desktop and the ceiling, and a window facing out the front of the unit, with the two curtains now drawn. I placed my shoes on the windowsill near the opening between the two curtains causing one side to slack open. This bowed the curtain out slightly creating a six-inch gap. I adjusted the curtain so that the gap bulged inward at eye level. The opening was not directly visible from the bed but was clearly visible from the bed looking into the mirror.

Exiting the room, I verified that our bed was on view from the walkway outside our room. In our car, I mounted and aimed a small video camera on the dashboard, so it was pointed toward our room. I came back inside.

A few minutes later, Grace emerged from the bathroom in a long yellow towel, her hair in another smaller towel wrapped like a turban. She went to the mirror where her hair dryer lay and spent several minutes drying her hair. I came up behind her, pushed the yellow towel to below her breasts and cupped both breasts as she dried her hair, wanting to distract her so she wouldn't notice the gap in the blinds.

"Well, you're anxious tonight, Sam," she said, her blue/grey eyes staring into mine in the mirror. I could feel her nipples getting hard from the light friction of my fingers.

"I did say that I would concentrate on you this weekend. Guess you can't wait any longer."

She let the towel drop to the floor, moved to the bed and lay on her stomach, her lissome body extended, propping herself up on her elbows. "Come over here. I think I have something you might need."

I went to the side of the bed, so that she would turn toward me, better displaying her body in profile in the mirror in case anyone happened to look through the gap in the curtains. She rotated as I hoped, undid the belt and zipper on my pants and let my pants fall on the floor. Her face level with my penis, she started licking my cock. Sliding a bit closer, she then took my cock fully in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the sensitive area under the head of my penis. I looked at the clock, noting the time.

Here was Grace, her head now starting to bob gently, her hair swinging back and forth, my cock entering and partially exiting her mouth, which was formed into a lewd "O" shape around my cock. Looking down along the length of her body, her lower back arched downward slightly, her toned athletic ass lifted upward, elegantly split down the middle by the shallow then gradually deepening crevice. The lower parts of her legs and both feet were pointed toward the ceiling.

Looking in the mirror afforded me a complementary view of my fellating wife. She looked simultaneously lovely and obscene with her mouth extended wide to accommodate my slowly plunging cock. My cock glistened from her saliva. She took my cock out of my mouth held it in her right hand. Lowering her head she lifted my scrotum, licking both balls, gently sucking each one, in turn, into her mouth. I could see a large drop of pre-cum on the tip of my penis. She looked at it, licked it off the tip and put my cock back in her mouth.

"Look at me," I said to her. As her questioning blue/grey eyes rose and met mine she continued to suck my cock. "Wait, I'm too turned on, you have to give me a second or I'll come too soon," I said, a single contraction releasing a pulse of cum into her mouth. Fortunately, I was able to refrain from fully coming.

Glancing at the clock again, I pulled her up so that she was in kneeling position on the bed and kissed her. I lay down on the bed, pulling her down on top of me, so that her back was toward the mirror. She straddled me and she lowered herself onto my cock. As she rode me, rubbing her pubis and clit against me in the way I knew she liked, I looked in the mirror. Her fit ass and thighs were nicely displayed. Her legs spread wide so that her entire ass was visible. My cock was disappearing into her vulva and then reappearing, her inner vaginal lips extruded around my rod on each withdrawal. Her hair swayed. Her nipples upright, breasts bounced in rhythm with her movement. She was combining her vertical motion on my pole with a forward and back motion to better stimulate her clit. I waited for her series of orgasms. Grace was usually not extremely loud when she came but she would emit an increasing crescendo of around ten sequential "oh, oh, oh..." sounds until she would orgasm over the edge with a protracted slightly louder, "agghh." Ideally, this would go on through at least several cycles. This evening, amid her string of orgasms, she admitted that she "wasn't able to stop coming." I loved that. I came hard, filling her.

Before falling asleep, I made an excuse to go out to the car, unplugged the recorder from the outlet, and hid the camera back under the seat.

...

You might think this should be enough for any man, and it would be difficult for me to offer a logical argument of dissent. But through our entire session I was wondering whether anyone might be viewing Grace sucking, fucking, and displaying her excellent body.

The next night, I set the room up in identical fashion and guided Grace essentially through a repeat of the previous night. I wanted to increase the chance that someone would see her completely exposed, in oblivious abandon, with a cock filling her mouth or entering and exiting her pussy.

After arriving home, I immediately went to my office. Anxiously fast forwarding through the first evening's recording, I found that several people walked past our room without taking notice. However, our neighbor from two units away from ours, who appeared to be in his mid-fifties, did a double take as he passed our room. He started walking to his room but retraced his steps and stared in for about five minutes. He left for a couple of minutes but then again returned to watch for another extended period of time. While he was viewing Grace, he periodically looked around to ensure that he wasn't himself being observed. From the time stamp on the recording, I calculated that he had first seen Grace in sphinx profile pose performing her blow job, and subsequently from the back while she was riding me.

The next night there were fewer people at the motel. But an attractive young woman, about college age, had abruptly stopped, staring into the room for several minutes. She was so engrossed that she was startled when someone else came walking by. She hurried away immediately. From the recoding time stamp I was confident that she had been watching my wife amid another enthusiastic ride.

I wish that I knew what each of these two voyeurs had been thinking and feeling as they were watching. I was excited about the idea that the guy had been able to see my wife with her lips wrapped around my cock, and I enjoyed imagining Grace being a source of the voyeuristic young woman's likely arousal after she made her way back to her room. As before, a central part of my excitement came from the fact that my wife had no idea she had been on display for people she didn't know.

...

"Your work on genetic networks is fascinating," I remarked to Grace as she was describing her ongoing research project at the university. "I see why you like the nematode as a model organism." She had chosen to work on these tiny worms because of the relatively small size of their genome compared with that of humans.

Smiling at me, she concurred, "Yes, I made such a good decision. It's time to go beyond looking just at the function of individual genes. With nematodes, we can look at a spectrum of genes that are turned on or off in concert with each other. We're then able to use the artificial intelligence algorithms I developed to get an idea of the interplay between an expanding constellation of genes that have interdependent function.

"After I figure out the nematode, I'll be able to move to mammals including humans. Complex human traits are controlled by similar networks. Eventually, we should be able to identify the individual genetic components of human networks that function in behavior, including depression, schizophrenia, and even sexual desire." As noted previously, Grace is an intelligent woman.

"I'm also confident that we'll be able to distinguish between more evolutionarily fit, superior members of a species," she continued. "It might be possible to distinguish those individuals from inferior members, those with lower potential."

"You're not talking about people, are you? I asked.

"Actually, yes," she answered. "Just between the two of us, I think we'll eventually find that some people have superior genetic networks. It would be preferable to not have people with superior genes and networks compromised by introduction of inferior genes into those networks." Also, as noted previously, Grace has low tolerance for people she considers to be of limited potential or lower status.

"I believe you're advocating eugenics, aren't you?" I responded incredulously. "That idea was put to rest seventy years ago."

"Well, I think my work on networks rather than individual genes will prove me right," she continued. "It's likely not quite as simple as I'm painting it. More likely human capability and potential is a continuum rather than segregated into two distinct groups. However, it would be a mistake for those on the high end of the spectrum to lower the capability of their offspring by interbreeding with those at the lower end of the spectrum. I know that if my theory turns out to be correct, it will be important to communicate and implement my idea diplomatically."

...

"Hey Grace, don't move!" I said as Grace stood in our backyard in her black bikini and white baseball cap. "I want to take a picture."

"Okay," she smiled demurely.

"Now let me take one with you turned away but looking over your shoulder toward me. Maybe take off the cap and sunglasses." I continued after grabbing a few frames.

"Hmm. What are you up to?" she asked.

"You're so beautiful. It's hard for me not to take pictures of you." This was completely true. I did like taking pictures of my wife. She obliged; her lovely blue/grey eyes had a hint of mischievousness as she looked over her shoulder. Her pose accentuated the smooth curves of her lower back, hips, and ass.

"Remember when we were on vacation last year and you went topless outside our condo? You looked so sexy. I keep wishing I had taken a picture of you back then. "How bout' we do that now?" I suggested.

"Oh Sam, you know I can't go topless in our yard! What if one of the neighbors saw me? Also those are the kind of pictures that people usually regret. They tend to find the light of day. It would be truly embarrassing if one of the people in my lab saw me like that or, can you imagine, if one of the undergrads in my introductory genetics class got hold of that kind of picture."

I was disappointed but not surprised. Still, I was hoping she might agree with my request. I had been planning on trying to move my nascent photo session indoors hoping, unrealistically it turns out, that I might be able to talk her completely out of her bikini.

In addition to setting up my wife to be voyeured by other people, I had myself become a voyeur of my wife. I've always looked, discreetly, at attractive women: in this way I'm a "normal" heterosexual guy and turned on by visual stimulation. However, I was strongly aroused by setting up situations where I could see Grace as a stranger might view her. The desire became a tangential extension of my candaulism. For a time, I set up situations where I could see Grace while she was unaware, pretending that I was a stranger. What I found though is, like a drug, I needed stronger and stronger doses to quell my addition.

...

Grace's mom came for a visit while my father-in-law, was out of town.

"Hi Anneline, good to see you," I greeted her as she came in.

"Hi Sam. Where's Grace?" She asked. "I've come over to have coffee with her."

"She's out in back. I bet she has coffee set up for the two of you already. I'd join you but there's work I must get done so I'll be on the computer in the office."

Anneline is an appealing looking woman. Since her features and demeanor evoke those of Grace, I suppose it's understandable why I think she's attractive. Also like Grace, she's attentive to her health and fitness and, at fifty-six, as with a large proportion of women her age, remains physically appealing and desirable. She's consistently condescending though, even to a degree past my wife, a trait I've come to expect when I'm with her, but an aspect of her personality that bothers me, nonetheless.