John’s Dream Girl (chapters 1 through 5)

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Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work.

Author’s Note:

This novel deals with extremely taboo situations and events in a very graphic, no-holds-barred manner. It covers a myriad of taboo sexual categories, ranging from “incest” to “rape,” and beyond. If taboo thoughts, ideas and fantasies are not your sexual “cup of tea,” then by all means, please feel free to bypass this story entirely. Consider yourself warned.

The storyline of this novel occasionally jumps around in time–either forward, or backward–from one chapter to the next. So those of you who do decide to continue onward to actually read this whole story through to the very end will need to pay close attention to the year date at the beginning of each chapter.

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JOHN’S DREAM GIRL

An Adult Erotic Twisted Tale About Taboo Relationships

by rat_race

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CHAPTER 1

1997: The John

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There’s just something very special and exciting about doing a thing for the first time ever. Especially when that “thing” is a brand new vagina that one’s erect penis is on the verge of penetrating.

At least, that was the essence of the main thought that was preoccupying Johnathan Ridgeway’s mind, while he was rubbing the head of his erect dick along the crack of her moist pussy.

John had already screwed more chicks in his 46 years on the face of this earth than he could count on all of his fingers and toes combined. But this woman, who was about to become the next “notch” on John’s “gun,” was truly different from all the others. He sensed that there was something very special about her. But he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

And John knew this from the very moment that their eyes had first locked together.

She had walked into Fred’s bar earlier that same evening, and had sat down on the bar stool at the bar, right beside John.

There was really nothing spectacular about the way that this 27-year-old lady looked, or dressed. She was wearing a loose-fitting beige sweater, faded blue jeans and some dark-brown cowboy boots, with her jeans tucked neatly inside them.

Her shoulder-length, brunette hair was perfectly-parted right down the middle to form thick ponytails that were hanging down on each side of her head. Her twin ponytails were way too long and thick to be called pigtails, even though that’s what they technically were. And she had each ponytail tied up with a narrow piece of royal blue ribbon, done up in almost-identical bows hanging over the top of each ear.

She had a rather plain-looking unremarkable face, accented with only the minutest touch of makeup, which did help to make her face look a little bit more attractive than it really was.

And she had a slender, boyish-looking body that no guy in his right mind would ever describe as being “built like a brick shit-house.”

But then John wasn’t exactly a “Mel Gibson” either. He was already at least 35 pounds overweight, with most of that excess fat being deposited around his stomach and waist, in the classic “tire-tube pattern” that middle-aged wives are all too familiar with.

He had thick brown hair, which was about the only thing that he had in common with the lady just described in the previous paragraphs. And John was already going prematurely bald. But he had enough hair covering the rest of his body to more than make up for the noticeable lack-of-hair on the very top of his head.

He wore brown horn-rimmed glasses, was a high-end computer analyst by profession, and most of the women who knew him considered him to be a nerdy type of guy. Definitely not the type of guy that a woman would normally get the hots for.

But since John had money, and all of the exorbitant trappings to go along with it, he also had been blessed with the good fortune of being able to bed almost all of the women that he had ever actively tried to pick up. There are a lot of gold-diggers in this world, and John knew it. And he also didn’t give a damn. Because the only thing he ever really wanted from any of those women that he picked up, was the use of their female genitals for a night or two.

Of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to let them know that fact in advance. Instead, John would always wait until he had first gotten what he had wanted, before he would finally “spill the beans,” and let the woman know that she didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of establishing any kind of on-going relationship with him, or with his money.

But tonight, John wasn’t feeling particularly horny. And so he wasn’t trying to pick up any women, although there were a few of them sitting at various locations throughout the small tavern.

Instead, John was lost in his own thoughts and staring into the mirror behind the bar, when the sweater-and-boot-clad, girlish-looking woman approached him.

The moment that she sat down beside him, she enthusiastically announced, “Hi, my name’s Lisa Chadwick. What’s yours?”

Oh God, she sounds just like a Talking Barbie doll, John thought to himself. And a Talking Barbie doll was the last thing that John needed right now. Without even looking at her, he dryly replied, “John,” and he automatically took another sip of his Colorado Bulldog.

He was still lost in his own daydreams and unconsciously shaking his head, when she said, “I’m sorry. I really don’t know how to go about doing this kind of thing any more. I guess I’ll just go sit at a table or something.”

“No no, that’s okay,” he said, still half-way locked into his daydream state. “It’s a free country. Go ahead and have a seat.”

“Are you sure about that?”

John finally glanced over at her for a moment. “Look, lady, I don’t bite. At least, not very hard. But I am guilty of howling at the moon from time to time. I guess it’s just a trait that comes from being a Ridgeway.”

This was John’s poor attempt at humor. He usually wasn’t a very funny kind of guy. People tended to laugh at him much more often than they tended to laugh with him. So he immediately turned back towards his sickly-sweet drink, and tried to mentally transport himself back into the same daydream.

“Being a what?” she asked.

“A Ridgeway,” John snapped back at her. “‘Ridgeway’ is my family name.”

Lisa plopped herself down onto the circular hardwood bar stool beside him, and she made a concerted effort to tone down some of her enthusiasm.

“Well, John, would you like to provide some company for a lonely lady?” she quietly said to him. “I just need to talk to someone. That’s all. You don’t even have to say anything, if you don’t want to. I just need someone to listen to me for a little while. I’m sick of sitting at home and talking to four walls.”

John finally turned to look at Lisa, as she was pouring her heart out to him. My God! Her eyes are beautiful, he thought to himself as he was staring deep into them.

Lisa had large, powder blue irises encircling her jet-black pupils. And her “bedroom eyes” were truly the only remarkable part of her otherwise plain-looking face. Despite John’s constant stare, she smiled warmly at him, and he instantly knew that she was a very special woman.

John went out of his way to assist Lisa in ordering a Tom Collins from the bartender. And then Lisa and John both sat there at the bar and chit-chatted. They talked about lots of different things, none of which had anything to do with the subject of “sex.” And an hour or so later, John felt like he had known this young woman for many years. This seemed odd to John, when he considered the large age-difference that existed between the two of them.

It was at about this point in their conversation, that Lisa took a sip of her second Tom Collins, and decided that it was finally time for her to make “the move.”

“You know,” she said in a subdued voice, while staring into the top of the half-empty, tall slender glass directly in front of her, “I haven’t been kissed by a man for an awfully long time.”

She slowly looked back up at John, and he could tell that her eyes were getting watery.

“Would you kiss me, John?” she politely asked, “I mean, really kiss me. So that I can remember what it’s like to be with a man?”

John was floored. He didn’t know what to say. He felt like a fool, as he just sat there, lost in those gorgeous, melancholy eyes of hers.

She quickly turned back towards her drink, bowed her head and closed her eyes. John saw a single tear stream down the side of her cheek.

“I mean…that’s okay,” she said to him. “You really don’t have to kiss me, if you don’t want to.” She slowly turned her head towards him, but kept her eyes averted, as she added, “But I’d sure be grateful if you would.” And only then, did she look back up into his eyes.

John leaned across, and started to politely kiss Lisa on the lips, when her mouth suddenly opened up wide. And her wiggly tongue came out, searching for his. She passionately rubbed the palms of her hands against his chest, and then quickly moved one of her hands down into his lap. And she grabbed hold of the bulge in his crotch and started massaging it.

John was both flattered and embarrassed when he finally backed off from the kiss. “Whoa there, little lady!” he exclaimed, “You’re really something else!”

“Thank you,” she smartly replied, and then leaned over very close to him to sexily whisper in his ear, “I think you’re cute as a teddy bear. I’d love to take you home with me tonight, so I can snuggle up with you…and fuck…your…brains…out!”

She backed off, and looked at him for a moment to gauge his reaction, before she abruptly turned her attention towards the mirror at the back of the bar.

“Of course, you can just stay here at the bar, if that’s what you really want,” she quickly said, with the words spewing out of her mouth like water gushing out of a wide-open spigot. Her pace didn’t let up, as she added, “And I’ll understand. Believe me, I will. In the past, I’ve said ‘no’ to a lot of guys myself and–“

Lisa’s faucet-mouth came to a jarring halt, when she felt John’s warm, fleshy hand reach over and gently engulf hers. She looked back up at him, and didn’t say a word for a few seconds.

“But I’d really appreciate it,” she very slowly stated, in the calmest voice she could muster, “if you would let me take you home with me tonight. I promise you, I don’t bite. At least, not very hard. And I don’t mind at all if you howl at the moon. I guess I’ll just have to howl right along with you.”

What could John really say to a proposal like that? Absolutely nothing, of course.

But he definitely felt like he was robbing the cradle, as he stood up, pulled out his wallet, dropped a fifty on the bar, thanked the bartender, and proudly put his arm around this lovely lady’s shoulder. They left the bar together, behaving like a newlywed couple on the first night of their honeymoon.

Twenty minutes–and a lot of kisses–later, they arrived at her place. Lisa lived in a modest-but-well-kept, single-bedroom apartment. As soon as they stepped through the front door, John closed it behind him, locked the door and turned back around.

Lisa instantly ambushed him, as she passionately French-kissed him for what seemed like the hundredth time. But this time, her hands were busy unbuckling his belt and pulling the zipper down at the front of his pants.

John expected her to grab hold of his dick and fondle it, like she had done at Fred’s bar, right in front of all the other customers.

But instead, Lisa backed away from him, quickly pulled her sweater off up over her head, undid her bra, and dropped those pieces of clothing down on the carpet, right at John’s feet. Then she darted off–with her body now naked from the waist up–and made a beeline for her bedroom.

John just stood by the front entrance for a moment, in total disbelief. Every time that he thought he had this young woman figured out, she would end up doing something else that totally caught him off-guard and surprised him.

He thought to himself, This lady’s like a birthday or Christmas present that you unwrap and open up, only to discover another wrapped box inside of the box that you just opened.

John was lost in this thought when an Eva Gabor-sounding voice, with its overly-thick Hungarian-style accent, playfully called out from the bedroom, “Vell, come on, you bik tettybeya. Vaht ahh you vaiting fawh, dahlink? An ad in duh newspaypah?”

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CHAPTER 2

1988: The Family

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Once upon a time, there was a papa bear, a mama bear and a baby bear–all living in the same house with Goldilocks.

Well eventually, Mama Bear got so disgusted with Papa Bear’s excessive drinking, that she tried to punish him by denying him his husbandly porridge. But Mama Bear had badly underestimated Papa Bear. He refused to be denied that which he felt was rightfully his.

So Papa Bear decided that he would get even with that ol’ Mama Bear. Late one night, he went to Baby Bear’s small bedroom, while she was sound asleep in her little bed, and he vowed to himself under his breath, “I’m gonna eat your porridge, you little baby bear bitch!”

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Lisa Chadwick’s whole life had seemed to her like it was some weird, distorted fairy tale.

In this particular fractured fairy tale, Lisa was the baby bear. But it might be more appropriate to call her the “bare baby,” because she preferred to sleep in the nude. And even when she didn’t, the most clothing that she would ever wear to bed was a pair of panties. Even on the coldest of nights, she relied on her blankets and quilts to keep her nice and toasty.

Lisa really wasn’t a baby either–at least not in the true sense of the word. She was an 18-year-old girl, with the intellect of a 21-year-old, and the sexual knowledge of a 10-year-old. With this combination of traits, Lisa was also a walking-disaster waiting to happen.

But right now, Lisa wasn’t walking. It was a Sunday night–February 14th, 1988, to be exact–and she was sound asleep in her own bedroom, tucked safely under the covers of her own cozy twin size bed, and having one of those erotic dreams that had been plaguing her ever since she had reached puberty.

Her erotic dreams always involved her playing the role of the young princess, who was rescued from her evil stepfather, the king, by some handsome young prince. Of course, the role of “the prince” was played by whichever boy at school that Lisa happened to have a crush on at the time.

But even though “the prince” was always someone different, the ending to the dream would always turn out the same. The young prince would whisk Lisa away from her horrible existence, and they would end up passionately making love in the late evening on a secluded stretch of beach, with a full moon shining down on the white tops of the ocean waves, as they relentlessly crash and splash up against the rocky coastline.

In her erotic dreams, Lisa also always envisioned herself as having long straight reddish-gold hair, and the hourglass-shaped body of a fully-grown, voluptuous woman.

This was a far cry from the gangly, narrow-hipped, budding-breasted, almost-boyish body that Lisa woke up to in the mirror every morning. And she would have been extremely disappointed–and very upset indeed–if she could have looked into a crystal ball, and seen that, three years from now, her fully-grown woman’s body wouldn’t look that much different from the 18-year-old body that she now inhabited.

Many times, Lisa had woken up from one of these erotic dreams to discover that her hand was already stuck in her crotch, with her fingers in auto-pilot mode, as they were deftly stroking away at her already-moist and blood-engorged vulva. Of course, once she was awake, she would simply continue to masturbate, until she had finally orgasmed enough that she felt satisfied, and could go back to sleep.

Lisa didn’t know that the sexual act she was performing in her bed late at nights was called “masturbation.” She thought that is was called “playing with yourself,” because in her past, when she was a young child, whenever her mother had caught her doing it in front of someone else, she would always tell Lisa not to play with herself. But Lisa didn’t have any qualms about doing it in private, because her mother had told her that it was okay for her to do that.

So Lisa would wake up from an erotic dream, and happily stroke herself from one orgasm to the next, without ever realizing what an “orgasm” was. Lisa only knew that whenever she “played with herself,” it gave her these incredibly wonderful–and uniquely pleasurable–sensations that she would always look forward to experiencing, over and over again.

And just like other normal healthy girls her age, Lisa absolutely loved to stick her fingers up into her own vagina, whenever she was masturbating. She thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of having at least two of her held-together fingers inserted up into her vagina, as she was instinctively stimulating her G-spot with her fingertips.

Whenever Lisa was playing with herself like that, she would always automatically tend to keep her eyes closed, while she vividly fantasized about what it would be like for her to actually have sex with a guy in real life.

At her mother’s insistence, Lisa was home-schooled. This meant that she never got to take the standard sex education classes offered by the public school system where she lived. And that was the main reason why she was so naive about anything having to do with “the birds and the bees.”

Instead, Lisa had gotten almost all the information that she knew about the subjects of “sex” and “lovemaking” from her best friend, Sharon, who was also 18 years old. Of course, this wasn’t exactly the ideal way for a girl her age to get that kind of information. In certain aspects, it was like the blind leading the blind. Nevertheless, what Lisa found herself fantasizing about a lot lately, was a thing called “fucking.”

She and her best friend, Sharon, had gone to the local zoo together last month, and they had witnessed two lions copulating. The female had crouched down on her stomach, and the male lion had approached her from behind, and was looming over her, as he repeatedly bit at the back of her neck.

Lisa had said, “Oh look, Sharon, those two lions are fighting each other.”

And Sharon had replied, “They’re not fighting, Lisa. They’re fucking.” Sharon had seen the confused look on Lisa’s face, and she added, “Oh, come on, you know…they’re making baby lions.”

“But look at him biting that poor lioness on the neck. She doesn’t seem very pleased about what’s going on. Are you sure they’re not fighting?”

“Believe me, Lisa, I’m positive that those two lions are fucking right now. Look at their back-ends. She’s got her tail pulled over to one side. And see how the male lion’s got his wiener stuck into her pussy?”

“Yeah, but what’s he doing to her?”

“I already told you, silly. He’s getting her pregnant, so she can have babies. All mammals fuck.”

“Do people fuck too?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Lisa answered, and then added, “Well, do they?”

“You bet they do! And they do it a lot, too!”

“Why?”

“‘Cuz they’re mammals, and it feels good to do it. That’s why. Haven’t you ever stuck your fingers into that big hole at the very rear of your pussy?”

Lisa didn’t respond.