In Part I, the father of two young daughters related his experiences in adjusting to the Family Changing Room at their local health club.

The expression on Stephanie's face when she'd seen me naked was burned into my brain. Her eyes had burrowed into me, seeking answers. I imagined her thinking, "How does it work? How can that thing make a baby?" It seemed that my little girl actively wanted to look at my penis. And I began to realize that I wanted her to look at it.

I can't say that I began to arrange things around this desire, not on purpose. But our next visit to the club was a turning point. The Family Changing Room was beginning to change us.

It was a Saturday, and the girls had two separate soccer games. Stephanie's game was at 8am, and Caroline's was at 10, in different towns, so Carol and I had to divide and conquer. (I honestly don't know how parents with more than two kids manage.) I volunteered to get up early and take Stephanie.

As we were heading out the door at 7:30 that morning, Steph said, "Can we go swimming after?" The club was on the way back from her game. Carol and Caroline would be busy until at least noon. So I said, "Sure, get your stuff." Steph smiled. My mind raced ahead. It would be just the two of us.

The soccer game was the classic gaggle of screaming girls and parents. The girls moved as one huge cluster around the ball like a miniaturized, squealing rugby scrum. The parents yelled "Kick it! Kick it!" with an uncontrolled fervor that would have been more appropriate in the days of the Christians and the lions. A few dedicated soccer moms even kept score, and would no doubt have sober discussions at home about how taking soccer seriously today would lead to success later in life. I fortunately don't suffer from these dangerous parenting delusions. I just wanted Steph to have fun, and I could tell by her constant Tigger-like bouncing that she did.

In the car on the way to the club, she was pensive. So was I. I don't think we talked at all.

When we arrived, as we walked through the parking lot, she took my hand. She hadn't done that in public in at least a year. If I took hers, she usually tolerated it, but her growing independence made her avoid most overt PDAs. (Public Displays of Affection, which I was told in no uncertain terms were "pukably gross".) I smiled at her, and she smiled back, and we walked hand-in-hand into the Family Changing Room.

Steph was in her soccer uniform. We sat on the bench, facing the same way. I decided to follow her lead. She took off her sneakers, and I did, too. The dusty knee-high white socks were next. She pulled her uniform top over her head, and I unbuttoned my shirt and slid it off.

We talked about what we wanted for lunch. McDonald's maybe. No, I'm sick of that. What about Wendy's? It's pretty far away, and the wrong direction. Maybe we'll just wait until we get home.

She stood up. I stood up. She now realized that I was matching her movements. I hadn't really thought about it, but my actions were saying 'If you want to see mine, I get to see yours.' Pretty juvenile, I know.

She was blushing, but still looking at me. Maybe we can pick up a pizza. Her fingers at the waistband of her shorts. My hands undoing my belt. That's a good idea. What kind do you want? Pushing her shorts down. Kicking them aside. Looking down shyly. I step out of my khaki shorts. Hawaiian I guess. That's ham and pineapple, right?

Her underpants were light blue, with a large Hello Kitty on the hip. They fit her snugly. I had a side view. Her proportions were so perfect, and her... well, her bottom - was just unbelievable. Perfect curves in back, perfectly straight lines in front. I was in my boxers. I think they were plaid.

She turned to face me. Ya, ham and pineapple. Caroline hates that tho. We'll have to get something else as well. Her face and chest bright red. Her eyes trying to get inside the fly of my boxers. I wait. Maybe just cheese. Ya, she likes that. She looked at the floor. I waited. She bit her lower lip. Sounds like a plan, then. Ya.

In one motion, her underpants were off. She stood with her arms at her sides, and slowly looked up at me.

After a moment, the words came unbidden to my mouth. "You're so beautiful, Stephanie."

I guess it was the right thing to say. She smiled a little. And waited. It was my turn. I saw myself drop my boxers to the floor. It was another of those out-of-body moments.

We gazed at each other, my daughter and I, both surprisingly calm after all the build up. Like Caroline, Stephanie's bare sex was a flawless, integral part of the landscape of her body. Not prominent, but not infantile either. Just the outer lips visible, highlighted by her tan lines. Her longer legs and body gave her a very different look from her younger sister, though. Caroline unselfconscious without her clothes was a beautiful, natural sight. Stephanie, just two years older, having willingly stripped naked as I watched, was intensely provocative.

She was studying me. Her interest in my penis seemed to make her forget her own nudity. Her eyes roamed over my privates. She bit her lower lip again. I think she was about to say something.

It was very fortunate that I was having the experience this way, feeling as though I were watching it from a distance, because it seemed to prevent my brain from connecting with the rest of me. Specifically, I didn't get hard. My penis behaved itself.

And I chickened out. Again. I said, "We should get to the pool."

We kept chatting about pizza while we pulled on our swimsuits. There were still some barriers, and more changes yet to come.

End of Part II

To be continued