Yes

When my daughter's body arrived home from school the next day, I was disappointed to notice that she again wasn't wearing a bra.

Disappointed both that she wasn't wearing a bra, and that it was noticeable.

"Mary..." I said, but she held up a hand and cut me off.

"Andrew," she said, moving towards me. "We only have so much time before Belle gets home. I really don't want to waste it fighting with you."

I dropped it. She had a point.

"What do you want to do?" I asked. A grin crossed our daughter's face.

"What's on the table?"

"Anything," I said reluctantly. I'd spent all night thinking about it. Mary was doing so much for us, for our daughter. For our family. It was only fair that I do my share.

"Anything?"?

"Not that," I said, throwing her a glance. "Anything else."

"Very well," she said, sitting on the couch.

I meant it, too. Aside that, I was willing to do whatever my wife requested. I wouldn't enjoy it, but it was what Mary needed.

Well, I hoped I wouldn't enjoy it.

I really, really hoped I wouldn't enjoy it.

"I know what I want," she said, after a pause.

"Oh?"

"I want you to watch me."

I waited for the end of the sentence, but it never arrived.

"What?"

"I want you to watch me," Mary repeated, Rose's eyes burning into mine.

"Okay..."

"I've been thinking about this all day," she said, leaning back on the couch in my office. "I've been thinking about it all week..."

I sat down on my office chair, confused and grateful. Confused about exactly what I was going to watch, and grateful that Mary didn't want me to...

Well, there was a long list of what I was grateful Mary didn't want me to do.

Watching? Watching, I was okay with.

My daughter's eyes never left mine, as my wife reached down and began unbuttoning Rose's shirt.

Obviously my instinct was to look away, but that wasn't the deal. Mary wanted me to watch, and so - loathe though I was to look at my daughter's naked form yet again - I watched.

I hated to admit it - I really, really hated to admit it - but Rose's tits were the finest I'd ever seen. Even in her hay-day, my wife's breasts had never stood quite so proudly on her chest.

To my annoyance, I could feel my cock starting to stiffen in my pants.

A better man would have been able to watch his daughter undress without getting aroused, but...god, I just couldn't help it. It wasn't just how perfect they were, either. Seeing them reminded me of what I'd seen...what we'd done.

What we were probably going to do again.

"Do you like these, Daddy?"

I grimaced at the term.

"Mary, what are..."

"Shhh," she said. "Honey. Please. You said anything."

"Yes, but..."

"We only have an hour, Andrew. Please."

I shut up.

Mary and I had roleplayed once or twice, but it had never been anything particularly kinky. She'd been a stranger at the bar, or a frisky maid. She'd never shown any interest in...something like this.

"Do you like these, Daddy?" she repeated. I shifted uncomfortably on my seat.

Rose was the only person who'd ever called me Daddy. I knew it was a fairly common term of endearment, but none of my previous girlfriends had ever used it, nor had Mary.

Until now.

Hearing the word from my daughter's mouth was...well, it made me uncomfortable. But what part of the situation didn't?

"Tell me you like my tits, Daddy..."

With a sigh, I answered.

"I like your tits, sweetie."

"Call me your baby girl."

"Mary..."

My wife shot me a glance. Even filtered through my daughter's face, I knew exactly what it meant. And so, against my better judgment, I conceded.

"I like your tits...baby girl."

Mary groaned, and grabbed Rose's breasts. Every instinct was telling me to turn away, but I continued watching.

It was the least I could do.

"Do you want to cum on them?"

"Yes," I replied immediately. Not because it was true, but because it seemed like a lifeline. Cumming on Rose's tits...just the idea was morally repugnant, but it seemed a lot more palatable than many of the alternatives.

I wasn't going to fuck her. I didn't want to touch her. And I'd watched my daughter swallow my cum once before; no part of me wanted to repeat the experience.

Cumming on her tits seemed like the lesser of about ninety-five different evils.

"You want to cum on your little girl's tits?"

Rose's voice was getting strained. Despite her hands not going anywhere near her pussy, it sounded like she was on the verge of cumming.

"Yes," I said hoarsely. "Please. I want to cum on your tits. I...I want to cum on my little girl's tits."

"Oh, god."

My wife pinched Rose's nipples. Hard.

A loud groan left my daughter's mouth as she came, her body twitching, her pelvis pushing back against an imaginary intruder. I could see the waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

As instructed, I sat, and I watched.

As my wife slowly came down from our daughter's orgasm, she smiled at me.

"God, Andrew..."

"I know," I smiled back at her. "I know."

I began to stand up, and a worried look crossed her face.

"Where are you going?"

My face fell.