Trish's Tush

Please try to enjoy my submission for this year's Valentine's Day Story Contest 2024 and vote accordingly. Thank you.

Trish's Tush

Part One

"Dad, you've lost more than ten pounds since Mom passed," Trish had scolded. "It's not healthy for you, and you're scaring me that I might soon lose my father too."

Steve Hatcher hugged his daughter and said, "I needed to lose the weight. I feel fine and I'll prove it by going out and mowing the yard while you get settled in. I've already got dinner planned for us, so stay out of the kitchen."

Trish's mother, Elsa Hatcher, had been Steve's life force. They had been inseparable since meeting in the private grade school that they had both attended, and they had carefully structured their lives and careers to maintain as much commonality and closeness as a man and woman possibly could have together. Losing her last summer to the cruelly rapid ravages of stage four pancreatic cancer had been devastating for Steve Hatcher, and he made no excuses for the impact the loss of his wife had had on him.

Patrisha "Trish" Hatcher had put the final semester of her senior year of college on hold to spend the last few months with her mother. She had reluctantly returned to school at the start of the fall semester to finish her degree, but had made a point of spending every other weekend at home with her father. The trip took her five hours each way, but she knew that her visits had become virtually the only contact that her father still had with anyone outside of his work since the death of her mother.

When she wasn't trying to think of ways to cheer her father up during her visits, Trish would spend time sorting through her mother's personal belongings and packing things that she knew her mother would have wanted donated to charity. After her second weekend visit, all of her mother's clothes had been packed in boxes. On this, the third visit, Trish had intended to go through her mother's jewelry and other personal effects to determine which items she would keep for herself and which they would donate.

Finding the vibrating bullet among the loose items in one of the drawers in her mother's bedside table was interesting. Discovering the secret journal hidden underneath a false bottom of the second drawer was mind-blowing.

Scanning the first few pages of this journal - and it was definitely a journal rather than a diary - Trish was fascinated by what she saw. In her mother's precise and professional block letters, gleaned from her career as an architectural drafter, Trish recognized that the words in this book were a personal and intimate record of her mother's thoughts, observations, ideas, and experiences related to the sex life between her and her husband. Unlike the record of a person's daily experiences documented in a diary, the entries in this journal were sporadic and focused on a single subject; how to give and receive pleasure from the man that she had loved all her life.

Trish realized that she was holding a veritable textbook, or "how-to" guide for sex. Her mother had diligently chronicled her and her father's sex life from the time that they had begun clumsily using their hands to explore each other's bodies, progressed to experimenting with oral sex, described how they had shared the loss of their virginity together, and thousands of their sexual interludes through more than twenty years of marriage. Flipping to the last pages with entries, Trish saw that they continued until mere weeks before her mother's death.

Unlike many of her contemporaries; young women attempting to out-do each other as the campus connoisseur of cock, Patricia Hatcher had been more selective and discreet in her own sexual exploration and experimentation. She was not ashamed of her lack of experience, but the idea of gaining valuable knowledge from the words of her mother appealed to Trish. She carried the journal and slid it into her backpack.

Examining the vibrator while trying to decide where to store it, Trish noticed the tiny piece of plastic protruding from the side of the vibrator and recognized it as the protector that was placed to keep the battery fresh until the purchaser removed it. That meant that this particular vibrator had likely never been used by her mother, or anyone else.

Interesting. Well, Trish decided that she might just christen the thing tonight after her father went to bed. She might not have a great deal of experience with sexual partners, but Trish did know how to please herself and take the edge off her sometimes over-zealous libido with her battery-operated boyfriend of the day. She fully expected that a comprehensive review of her mother's journal would necessitate some relief being required tonight.

She awoke the next morning to the smell of fresh-brewed coffee emanating from the kitchen. Trish propped herself against her headboard and listened for sounds from her father as she continued slowly joining the new day. The journal was lying at the foot of her bed where her tossing and turning while asleep must have pushed it. She had no idea where the bullet vibrator was but knew that she would find it when she straightened her bed later.

Trish had not been disappointed when her father had decided to retire for the evening almost immediately after they had finished dinner. She cleaned up the kitchen after dinner, purposely stalling to allow him to get settled in his bed and hopefully asleep before she returned to her own room. The split bedroom design of their house left little chance that her father would be able to hear anything from her room while he was in his, but without a lock on her bedroom door, she wanted to be extra careful.

Starting at the beginning of her mother's journal, Trish hadn't made it far enough in it to read about her parent's honeymoon night before she had physically exhausted herself with multiple orgasms at her hands and with the occasional aid of the bullet vibrator. The five years of her parent's relationship that Trish had read about to that point taught her several things:

1. Her mother must have possessed a sexual libido equal to her own. She had written about being horny all the time and the frustrations that she had experienced when not being able to obtain release.

2. Her mother had been the dynamo in the sexual relationship between husband and wife. From the 1st hand job that her mother had given her father, through their entire marriage, her mother had been the partner who most often initiated sex, and always determined the breadth and depth of their interludes.

3. Unlike his personality in other aspects of his life, her father had always been deferential toward his wife's ideas and directions where their sex life was concerned. Their sex had been rather "vanilla", but what variations that did enter it had been driven by her mother.

4. According to her mother, Trish's father had a slightly larger than average penis. Being as tiny as her daughter, the size of her husband's equipment both thrilled her mother and frightened her.

5. The details that her mother had documented in her journal were as educational for Trish as they were arousing. She had come away from her reading with a desire to learn from her mother's experiences.

Trish focused on this last bit of awareness as she lay in her bed. She wanted to try the things that her mother had tried with her father, starting from the beginning. She wanted to learn how to explore a man's cock with her hands and bask in the responses that her touches would elicit from him. She wanted to feel her pussy becoming wet from the arousal derived from having control over her man's pleasure. She wanted to patiently tease and please a man until he could hold back no longer.

Recalling the pages that she had read last night, Trish considered her mother's words where her coercion of her father had been concerned. He had initially resisted her mother's request to show him his cock. They had been making out for almost half an hour in his parked car and his erection was getting uncomfortable in his jeans. When he attempted to reposition himself to ease the discomfort, her mother had begged him to open his pants and release his penis. She explained that she had been feeling the bulge for months, and that she deserved to see his physical reaction to her.

Her pleas for him not to deny her finally wore him down. He unzipped his jeans and began to fish his cock out of his pants when her mother had stopped him. She insisted on him allowing her to expose his cock to her for the first time. Her father had acquiesced to her that time, as he had virtually every other time that she made a request of him thereafter.

The thought struck Trish, "Would he do the same for me?"

This thought was followed seconds later by, "Would I want him to?"

Further thoughts were interrupted by a soft tapping on her bedroom door.

"Trish? Are you awake yet? It's almost 9 am."

She lurched forward and grabbed the journal from the foot of the bed and quickly slid it under one of her pillows.

"Come on in, Dad. I'm just taking my time greeting the day."

Her father entered the room with two cups of coffee and handed one to Trish. She patted the side of her bed, encouraging him to take a seat. He was wearing boxer briefs and a t-shirt, an ensemble that Trish had been accustomed to seeing him in since her childhood.

When he took a seat, Trish's eyes were drawn to his muscular thighs. Both of her parents had been into gymnastics when they had been younger and her father still had much of the muscular definition that he had developed in his youth. He was short in stature, barely five foot six inches, but he was a leader among men, owning the architectural firm that he and her mother had made their careers.

"Did you have anything special planned for today?" he asked his daughter.

After taking a sip of her coffee, Trish replied, "I had planned to finish going through Mom's things this morning. I should be ready to start taking boxes to Goodwill after lunchtime."

Her father just nodded and stared at his coffee cup. Trish decided to seize the moment.

"You know, Dad, one of the things I miss most about Mom is being able to go to her for advice..."

Her father jerked his head up, "Sweety, you can always come to me. I know that I'm not as knowledgeable in some girl-related stuff as your mom was, but I promise that I will always listen and do my best."

Trish took a few more sips from her coffee as she considered her father's words and how to use them to her advantage. To their advantage. After all, her idea was to ease his grief while at the same time allowing her to gain the knowledge her mother's journal held the promise of providing her.

She finally asked, "Dad, you and Mom had a pretty good sex life, didn't you?"

If he was surprised by the question, her father didn't show it. "I thought so. Why?"

"If I was to ask you a question as a girl, do you think that you could answer it as Mom would have?"

"I suppose that it would depend upon the question," her father admitted.

Trish covered her eyes with her hands, feinting embarrassment. She kept them covered as she said, "Questions about sex."

Her father chuckled as he moved up on his daughter's bed to lean against the headboard next to her.

"That's a pretty broad subject," he told her as he settled. Is there something in particular that is bothering you? Your mother told me that you haven't been a virgin since the summer after you graduated from high school."

Lowering her hands, Trish said, "Oh, God. Don't remind me of that experience. It was awful."

Her father placed his arm around Trish's shoulder and pulled her against him. "What questions do you have?"

Welcoming both the feel of her father's support and the improved mood that this discussion seemed to be instilling in him, Trish hesitated only a few seconds before continuing.

"It probably isn't much different than when you were my age, but guys all seem to have expectations that I'm not usually able to meet."

"Let me guess," her father said. "If they spend any money on you at all, they expect to get 'lucky'? Am I close?"

"Bullseye!" Trish exclaimed. "But it goes further than that. Some guys are patient for a few dates, but after that, if a girl doesn't meet their expectations, they lose interest entirely. What if a girl just isn't ready as quickly as the guy is?"

Her father squeezed Trish's shoulder and said, "Any guy not willing to wait for you to be ready isn't worth your time."

"But Dad, if I like a guy and want to keep him interested until I am ready, what do I do? I mean, I have heard other girls talk about ways to give a guy some relief without going all the way by using their hands on him, but I don't know if I could do that. I have never even actually touched a guy's penis. Did Mom ever do that for you?"

"I, uh..." her father stammered.

"Dad, please. Try to tell me what Mom would tell me. You are mother and father to me now, so try to switch hats for a few minutes."

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, her father finally relented, "She would probably tell you to give the guy a hand job to keep him satisfied until you were ready to go further with him."

Trish turned to face him, placing a hand onto her father's thigh, just below the hem of his boxer briefs.

"Mom would do more than that, wouldn't she, Dad?"

There was an audible hitch in her father's voice as he replied, "Yes. Your mother would explain to you how to do it."

As her hand slid up and under the leg of her father's boxer briefs, Trish commanded, "Then that's what I expect you to do. Explain to me how to give a guy the type of hand job that Mom gave to you."

Part Two

"You still like stretching me out, don't you?"

Steve Hatcher lifted his daughter's chin off of his still heaving chest and looked into her eyes, "Of course I do. Your pussy is just as tight as your mother's ever was. Why are you asking?"

Patrisha Hatcher-Wells wanted to choose her words carefully. She knew that the death of her mother was still a very emotionally sensitive subject for her father, but she needed to discuss with him some needed changes to their relationship that couldn't be broached without certain topics being included.

With the aid of the journal, Trish had followed closely her mother's guidance of her father through a second sexual awakening, or a reawakening as it were. She also discovered that she apparently shared the same joy of documenting the activities that she shared with her father, just as her mother had done for all those years. God, how re-reading her descriptions turned Trish on, sometimes more than having lived them. She wondered if her mother had felt the same way.

Over the past three years, Trish had continued to spend at least one weekend a month with her father. During these "therapeutic" visits as Trish viewed them, she would coax him into showing her how her mother had pleased him during their courtship and subsequent marriage.

From that first hand job, to his initially tentative fingering of her pussy, her "education" had slowly drawn her father out of his grief to the point where he had become almost human again within months. After almost a year, it was relatively easy for Trish to convince her father that they should have actual intercourse when her relationship with her boyfriend, Eric Wells, had progressed to the point of his proposing to her.

How else could she obtain her mother's advice on pleasing her future husband if her father didn't share with her what they had done together?

"Daddy, show me how you and Mom used to do 69 with each other."

"Daddy, show me how Mom took you from behind."

"Daddy, show me how Mom rode on top of you."

Of course, Trish had discovered early in this redefined relationship with her father that calling him "Daddy" while they were engaged in whatever sexual activity at the time, would usually result in him immediately shutting down. As long as he could assuage any guilt that he felt about what father and daughter were doing together by imagining that it was his wife instead of Trish, the happier he was.

Trish didn't require the sexual education as much as she felt that her father's emotional state benefited from the intimate therapy that their sexual trysts provided for him. She would spend the hours driving to her father's house considering which new or repeat experience she had read about in the journal that she could talk her father into showing her during their weekend time together.

She and Eric had now been married for almost two years, and he encouraged and supported Trish's weekend visits with her father, though he knew nothing of their carnal activities during these visits. He saw them as an opportunity for him to play golf all weekend or simply hang with other guys watching sports.

While Trish had no intention of stopping the visits with her father permanently, things between them needed to change for a while. Explaining this to her father meant that she would have to raise a couple of subjects with him today. The size of his cock being one of the topics.

"I was wondering if you would like stretching my butt out as much as you do my pussy."

There, she had said it. Could she convince her father to do the one thing that her mother never could?

The last several pages in the journal before her death had described for Trish her mother's desire to give her final virginal orifice to the man that she had loved and shared her life with. As her health declined, so did her ability to overcome his concern over possibly hurting her. Trish would not be as easily dissuaded. Although her ass was far from being a virgin orifice like her mother's had been, her father didn't need to know that.

Separating his body from Trish, he propped his back against the headboard of his king-sized bed. He stared down at her laying on her stomach, head bent back as she looked at him with concern in her eyes. His own eyes journeyed down her wondrously naked body to gaze at her ass.

Trish had taken after her mother in so many ways, but none more so than with her beauty and physical endowments. Silver-blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, angelic pixielike facial features, and a physique reminiscent of the character, Tinker Bell from the Disney cartoons that her mother had tattooed on her right hip. Trish had followed her mother's example and had the same tattoo placed identically on her body for her father to plainly see whenever they were naked together.

Though she would always look young for her age, just as her mother had, Trish had developed into a full-grown, if demure, woman. Standing just under five feet tall and weighing less than one hundred pounds, her body was perfectly proportioned, with 32B breasts, a 24-inch waist, and 35-inch hips.

"Your mother and I never had anal sex," her father stated flatly. "There's nothing that I could show you in that regard."

Trish considered her father's words. She had never shared with him the fact that she had the journal that her mother had kept secret from her husband. So, Trish couldn't tell him that her interest was partly due to an obligation that she felt to fulfill her mother's wish to give her husband the experience of anal sex. Instead, Trish focused on the primary reason for suggesting the idea to her father.

"Was it because you thought that you would hurt her?" Trish asked as she reached up and wrapped her hand around his softening erection.

Her father's eyes shifted to Trish's hand on his cock. He didn't speak for several seconds as he felt her fingers gently working their magic on his semi-erect shaft. His wife used to have the same touch, and always achieved the same response from her actions as his daughter was now striving for.