"Candaulism" Table of Contents
I cannot explain this impulse nor be certain even exactly how it began. I suppose it was because when I was ten my best friend Billy brought his sister into the woods and stripped off her shirt and pulled down her shorts and underpants for the bunch of us boys. She was just eight or so herself. But I am sure she knew she was not supposed to do something like that, and that added to the incredible sexual excitement of it. Her embarrassment, the way she looked at the ground, and yet made no attempt to cover herself or to pull up her pants, is vivid in my memory, as vivid as my first glimpse of the mysterious genitals of a girl, which I saw then for the first time. She stood there for as long as we wanted and let us get down close to it and examine it—like some fleshy flower—and some even touched her little "petals" there.
I never really had the impulse to force another girl do this, although the fantasy of seeing a girl take her clothes off, especially in an imagined situation of shame or coercion, was common for my teenaged masturbations, and pictures of a girl with her underpants dropped about her legs or hobbling her feet were a sort of fetish for me. Especially so if she looked reluctant or humiliated.
Yet I never tried to act out any of this. The fantasy was just a short-cut to ejaculation when I masturbated. That is all. My sexual interest in girls was otherwise pretty normal. Like most boys in those days I thought of getting a chance at some sexual advance, taken gradually against dumb resistance in a long subversive campaign on some targeted innocent (but vulnerable) girl—I mean, she was always targeted for her vulnerability, being the one whom I thought I could get to let me do something to her. I always expected her to be reluctant or ignorant, but hopefully foolish, and it always seemed I had to coax her and wear her down by my overpowering persistence and seductive tenderness, if not also outright aggression and insistence. For certainly she should be ashamed of herself to let you see her naked. And certainly anything but a partial undressing in the dark and some stolen touching was about as much as you could ever get before you scared her off or you had to get married to her. What sex really was remained just as mysterious to me as those strange girlish genitals that I saw on Billy's little sister, genitals which I would not see again until after I was married. And then I found there was hair on them. What was in there really?
Much later, I would of course persuade my young wife to let me take some Polaroids of her naked, and I would get her to sit and let her legs fall open and then in the photos I could study it. And now I found a florid slit, wet folds of flesh, and parts I could not identify. And a responsiveness that astonished me.
Much like own penis in its stimulation, it seemed, but so much more complicated.
She did not ejaculate. At least not for me. She got wet. She got excited. She embraced me warmly, but I was never sure she felt the same pleasure doing it as I did doing it to her.
But I get ahead of myself. Read the story to see how this worked out in my life.
How it all began
and how I became a cuckold to my wife in the first year of our marriage
My
wife's "boyfriend" arranges a surprise for my gullible wife and my
compulsive teenaged fantasies are reawakened.
Candaulism—Part
III
My wife agrees to take off all her clothes in front of my friends in the basement of my parent's house and show herself naked to them while I spy from outside the window.
My
friends do my wife --repeatedly...
Candaulism—Part V
Memories and confessions: Really? How many guys did she suck off?