I swallowed at my wife, still beautiful and curvy as she approached forty, her breasts looking wonderful in the slip's cleavage, her brown hair fallin... in curling waves about her mature face.Our daughter's face fully blossomed. She even had that same, impish smile.“What's got you excited?” she asked. “Staring at Tiffany?”“What, no,” I laughed, hoping she was joking. “Why would I stare at our daughter?”She shook her head. “Shower. Now. Mister.”“Yes, dear.”I stepped into the haze of steam. I. "Stevie, honey, head back to our house, no need to go back to your mommy's place." She looked into my eyes while I was driving and looked worried. She didn't say anything for a long time and I felt weird. I wasn't sure if I should say something or apologize or what she expected. Then she reached over and grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "Stevie, darling. I feel terrible. That shouldn't have happened. I didn't mean for anything to happen. Are you mad at me?"I just stared at her. But I was. More

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