"Don't even think about putting this goopy thing anywhere inside me, pal."

Kate softened her warning by continuing to stroke me. It was partly her fault, anyway. We had applied sunscreen thoroughly to each other, all over, and my cock was dripping with the stuff. I was fully erect, and Kate's nipples were standing straight up.

She smiled.

"But I'd really like you to come on my boobs, can you do that?"

Silly girl. Of course I could. And in a moment I did, spraying each one thoroughly.

"Good boy. Just what I needed, a little extra protection."

We were on our annual two-month holiday in a small run-down vacation house Kate and I had bought a few years ago following promotions at work for both of us. Several hundred miles north of the city, good Internet access so Kate and I could do a little work remotely when we had to, and miles of beach with water bluer than blue where no one seemed to care whether you wore a swimsuit or not.

I don't know how many gallons of sunscreen we went through every year, but it had to be a lot. Pretty much everyone had the message by now: put the stuff on or risk skin cancer later. So we slathered up religiously every time we went out.

We also faced the challenge every parent does, which is how to apply sunscreen to a feisty toddler. We solved that in the traditional manner, that is, by ganging up on her. Kate and I would trap Frances between us, fill our palms with goo, and attack her from both sides.

Once her wriggles and shrieks turned to giggles and sighs, we knew we had her. One of us in front, the other in back, and we just covered the kid, top to bottom.

It was a game, of course, but Frances never tired of it. Same script each time: chasing, trapping, squeals, wriggles, then giggling and cooing and sighing. It was a sloppy body massage, and Frances loved it. Often we'd have to shoo her away after we'd finished.

Then Ben came along, and for a little while the odds were too even for comfort. Ben was stronger and a little faster than his sister, but once trapped he loved it as much as Frances did.

The odds shifted once more when Frances decided it was fun to help gang up on her little brother. Ben didn't stand a chance against the three of us. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure he really tried to resist very hard, either. He was a smart kid.

And then there was the hair-brushing. I loved brushing Kate's hair from the first, and it had become sort of an evening ritual with us after dinner, and after Kate had showered and was all relaxed. That changed when Frances was about three years old.

"Look, my hair is wind-ing!"

Her hair was so short at birth and afterwards that I don't think Frances had a single haircut, except maybe a trim now and then, for at least her first three years. When her hair finally started to grow she was ecstatic, and she never missed the chance to show us how the wind was blowing her hair. I've never seen a kid so happy.

So, every night starting sometime when Frances was three or four, and sometimes during a quiet moment in the morning or afternoon, we brushed her hair. A gazillion strokes at least, with Frances sitting in my lap or with her mother, content and smiling.

It wasn't long before Ben noticed what was going on. He was pretty unhappy at first, since his hair never seemed to be long enough to brush. So we let him brush his sister's hair. When he got pretty good at it, meaning that Frances didn't scream more than once or twice when he got the brush tangled up, Ben graduated to brushing his mother's hair, too.

Ben and I switched off brushing Kate and Frances. Mostly we did the brushing all four together, but sometimes we'd separate. It was a good chance for quiet talking one-on-one. Usually it was one parent and one child for these conversations, but sometimes the kids went off together for Ben to brush Frances. Either way, it was a special time for all of us.

"Jesus, Kate, now what do I do? She has boobs!"

Kate gave me her look, but this time it was more tender than tart.

"You keep on treating her as the daughter you love, that's what you do. You've known how to do that for 12 years now, and nothing has changed."

Well, it was all fine and good for Kate to put it that way, but I was facing the thing every father of a daughter does: what to do when this kid, the one with a stick figure who loves being held and tickled and massaged and wrestled with, starts to sprout curves and bumps here and there. Everything had changed even if nothing had changed, and Kate and I couldn't deny it. I was pretty sure Frances knew it, too.

I saw the answer as plainly as Kate did, of course. This was exactly the wrong time to start withdrawing from this child who is no longer quite a child. I know plain as day that when everything is changing she needs us, both of us, more than she ever did before. I do know that, but still...

Kate stepped into my arms.

"You keep on hugging her and loving her. You let her be your guide about what she wants and where she wants to be touched. You be yourself, her dad, the dad she loves, and you be the rock for her. You're not her boyfriend, you're not her brother, you're her father."

Then she kissed me, hard.

"I'll talk to her later."

That conversation with Kate was sparked by what had happened the day before.

Even though the kids had been perfectly capable of gooping themselves for years now, we'd kept up our family sunscreen slathering sessions because everyone seemed to enjoy it. Plus, the kids could do Kate and me, so it wasn't a one-way street anymore.

I won't pretend I didn't notice that Frances and Ben were growing up. I also won't pretend that Kate and I didn't respond to the slathering. More than once I noticed that Kate's nipples were just as erect after Ben or Frances slathered her as they were when I did it, and I was half-hard whether it was Kate or Frances or Ben doing me. Even Ben's smaller cock would be sticking straight out after we'd worked on him. Frances seemed to delight in making sure Ben was well-covered, especially there. Ben liked that a lot.

I guess somehow I was avoiding noticing the changes in Frances, the way her hips were beginning to spread and her little mounds were turning into breasts. No, that's not true. I saw it, knew what was going on, but I didn't want to admit to myself how arousing it was.

I don't know where my mind was that morning, but I was doing her front when Frances jumped just as my fingers passed over two little nubbins.

"Dad!"

Oh, God.

"I'm really sorry, sweetie. I wasn't thinking."

Grabbed her to cover my confusion and hugged her. Don't know whether that made things better or not. Slick nude girl, nude dad. I twisted my body a little so she wouldn't feel my stiffening cock.

She was smiling when I let her go, but I thought I saw a little wariness in her eyes.

"It's OK, Dad. You just surprised me."

I hugged her again. Held her with my arms on her shoulders. Looked her right in her eyes.

"I am sorry, Frances. I didn't mean to surprise you."

She smiled a little more. Maybe a little less wary, I'm not sure. Hugged me tight.

"Thanks, Dad."

Then she was gone.

"She still loves you, you know."

I looked at Kate. It was the evening following our earlier talk. We were sitting on the wooden bench, the one with thick cushions and padding, on our front veranda. The night was warm and humid.

"This would be our daughter you're talking about, I suppose?"

"The very one. I talked to her. She was caught off guard the other day."

I kept looking at Kate.

"She wants you to keep gooping her."

My cock twitched.

"She also wants you to keep brushing her hair."

I stiffened some more. Kate noticed, knelt in front of me and slowly, carefully unzipped me. Fished my now-erect cock out and took me into her mouth. Slid her tongue underneath for a moment, then let me slip out.

"She's a good kid. You're a good dad, too. Don't worry so much."

Kate swallowed me whole, another swipe with her tongue. Let me slip out again. Looked up and smiled.

"Just let it go when you're ready. I want it all."

With her tongue and her lips, it was only a moment or two and I was thrusting and throbbing and spurting down Kate's throat. I closed my eyes as I climaxed.

As I came back to myself and opened my eyes again, I spotted a little movement. Someone almost in the doorway moved back inside and disappeared.

"Dad, please?"

Frances, very early the next morning, panties and t-shirt, hairbrush in hand. Sun barely up. I was working on my first cup of coffee.

"Sure, sweetie."

Too early to tell whether Frances would end up as curvy as her mother, but it was pretty obvious she would be about as tall. I stood up, hugged her, and we moved over to the sofa. Frances on the floor in front of me.

Brushing. Brushing. Stroke after stroke. Nothing from Frances but a quiet sigh now and then. I told myself not to rush her. Kept on brushing.

"Dad, I'm sorry about the other day."

I leaned down and kissed the side of her neck.

"Frances, sweetie, you don't have anything to apologize for. It's the other way around. I really didn't mean to scare you. I just wasn't paying attention."

She twisted around and looked at me.

"I love you, Dad."

I leaned down some more, and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"I love you, Frances."

I saw something else in her eye, not sure, maybe almost a twinkle.

"I saw you and Mom last night."

My cock twitched.

"I thought someone was there. Didn't know it was you."

Silence. More brushing.

"I was coming out to say goodnight."

Silence again. I kept on brushing.

Frances twisted around once more. Twinkle gone now. Looking a little nervous.

"I didn't mean to spy. I just didn't know what to do."

I leaned down to kiss her again. Lingered just a second on her lips, then kissed the side of her neck.

"Sweetie, it's OK."

Noticed hard little bumps under her t-shirt before she turned back.

"I know you weren't sneaking around."

A few more brush strokes. Kissed the back of her neck this time.

"It just happened. It doesn't bother your mom or me."

Frances leaned forward a little. I put the brush down and began to massage between her shoulder blades, up to her neck, back down again. Another little sigh. Kissed her neck again.

"Um, Dad?"

"What, sweetie?"

I kept massaging her, but I could feel her tensing up.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Did it feel good, what Mom was doing?"

I stopped massaging. Frances twisted to look, couldn't tell whether she was excited or about to cry.

"Oh, sweetie, of course it did."

I kissed her cheek, then her neck. Staying away from her lips right now. You need to cool this a little, I told myself.

She smiled.

"It made me a little excited."

I laughed.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"You're not mad?"

"Frances, of course not. But next time give us a little warning that you're there. Your mom and I aren't worried about it, but we don't want to be surprised any more than you do."

She giggled.

"More brushing, please?"

I needn't have worried about the gooping, either. Later that morning we were all at it before setting out for the beach. Frances in front of me, facing away. Ben and Kate were slopping each other right beside us.

Frances turned around to face me as soon as I had finished her back, bottom and legs.

"Front, too, Dad. All of me."

She was grinning. I smiled back, and she closed her eyes.

"You bet, sweetie."

Hands full of goop again. Started with her shoulders, straight on all the way down. Heard a small sigh when I massaged her breasts and went over her little bumps. Stopped at the top of the soft-looking brown fur she was beginning to grow just above her center, skipped to her hips, then her thighs, inside and outside, and all the way down to her feet. Slapped my hands back on her hips and rubbed in little circles when I finished.

"OK, kiddo, you're all set."

Frances opened her eyes. She was still grinning.

"Thanks, Dad. Come on, Ben."

And they were off across the garden, past our fence, and down the beach. I watched her tight little rear end as she ran. I felt myself stiffening.

Kate's hand came around from behind and stroked me and I felt her full breasts warm on my back, pointy nipples. In a second I was fully erect.

"She has a nice bottom, doesn't she?"

"Oh God, Kate."

"Ben's got a cute rear end, too, you know."

I turned and kissed her. Kissed her again. Tongue. Kate's hand kept stroking me.

"My hands are covered in goop. I can't touch you inside."

"Just give me a rain check, pal."

She kept stroking and stroking, and soon I fountained all over her hand.

The following year Kate and I decided that Frances and Ben were old enough to give us some serious help with the vacation house. We knew what was important, meaning beach time was priority one, but the place really needed paint and some minor fixing up here and there. So we had a pattern: two hours of work in the morning when it was relatively cool, then hit the beach.

We kept on gooping each other up. Frances relaxed about it and still wanting to be gooped all over. Kate or I always happy to do that, same thing with Ben. I was also noticing that Ben wasn't so little anymore. Not surprisingly, he especially liked being gooped there.

Ben also was taking an interest in gooping his sister as well as his mother. He and I even gooped each other now and then. Kate and I had had several versions of the talk with him, just as we had done with Frances a couple of years earlier, so we were pretty sure he knew what was happening and why. Still, I knew he was a little sensitive about what seemed to be a semi-permanent erection.

It was late one morning, work on the house finished for the day, and we were all horsing around in the water. Some splashing, some grabbing. We even did a little jousting with Kate on my shoulders and Frances riding on Ben. Frances with breasts not quite big enough yet to do more than jiggle a little; Kate's breasts swinging as she moved. Ben couldn't take his eyes off of them, which is why Kate and I kept outmaneuvering him to pull Frances into the water and dunk her.

One good thing about this particular stretch of beach was that it had a nice mix of singles, couples, families with tons of kids, younger, older, you name it. It took some of the pressure off of Frances and Ben, I think. They weren't just stuck with nude parents all the time, which can be kind of intimidating; they could see plenty of other nude folks, too. I was pretty sure they were both interested in what they saw, especially the kids around their ages.

When we took a break, Frances brushed against Ben as she and Kate headed for the sand and their towels.

Ben was kind of hunched over.

"Ben, pal, it's OK."

He looked at me.

"You're hard, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

Not a shy kid, but he was clearly uncomfortable. Pointed at myself.

"I am, too. Don't worry about it."

"What if they notice?"

I moved closer and hugged him. Our cocks touched, but I ignored it. Turned him toward the shore where we could see his mom and sister on their towels. Arm around his waist, then ran my hand down over his butt. Made a little circle or two.

"Ben, you can be pretty sure they have noticed."

He reddened.

"Oh, God."

I laughed. Ben jumped.

"Ben, I'm not laughing at you. It's what happens to all of us. Especially at your age. This isn't the first time it's happened, is it?"

Ben shook his head.

"It won't be the last time, either, you can bet on it."

I kept rubbing his rear end.

"Go ahead, finish up."

Ben looked at me.

"You don't mind?"

I laughed. Kept moving my hand on his bottom. Kate was right, he had a cute rear end. Nice and firm and still pretty smooth, too.

"Go for it."

Ben's hand moving again, long strokes. It was a little bit of a turn-on, in fact, and I stayed hard. Then he was there, pumping, releasing. I kept my hand where it was, just moving slowly, feeling him clench.

"Better?"

Ben gave a little laugh.

"Yeah."

He paused, couldn't quite look at me.

"Um, Dad? I kind of liked what you were doing with your hand, too."

My turn to laugh.

"Me, too."

Figured this was a good moment for a little more talk.

"Look, Ben, it's our job to protect them. Not because we own them, but because we're men and we love them."

Paused for a second.

"That's not quite right. Your mother is fully capable of defending herself, and your sister will be, too, soon. But no matter how prepared your mom and Frances are, we still need to watch over them."

Ben was listening, I thought.

"That means making sure they are comfortable around you and that they trust you."