Trish’s Tush by BobbyBrandt

Trish’s Tush by BobbyBrandt

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 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.

Patricia “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.