Marianne bared her naked breast to me yesterday. I'm sure it wasn't intentional, but the damage was done. She had just taken a shower that morning and I was making us some breakfast when she walked out. When I glanced at her, I was completely frozen at what I saw. She was wearing a pair of very tight-fitting pink yoga pants and a robe. That was all. At that point, all I saw were the inner swells of her breasts and the center of her bare belly. She said hi to me, but all I could do was stare as she walked around the couch and sat down. Only then could I finally respond to her, bidding her a good morning.
With a shake of my head, I continued getting breakfast ready. She was watching something on TV but I barely paid any attention. In my head, the image of my daughter's naked flesh seemed to
