For the next 60 days we will be sharing a chapter a day of Ainsley's first POP EROTICA novel. Bang Bang Bang, A summer of sin in Brooklyn.
He never thought in a million years this could ever happen to
him. How did he get to this point? His brain was racing. It
was sad really. Here he was a high powered lawyer with a
knife shoved up under his chin. He could feel the steel
pushing forcefully into his flesh.
“Listen, babe” he could barely squeeze the words out. “I
don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Shut the fuck up Max,” she said with her eyes filled with
tears, her hand shaking like a leaf. There they were, a
beautiful couple, in their sprawling Clinton Hill apartment
with a view to die for, and what were they doing? She was
getting ready to murder him.
She shoved the knife harder. “Don’t lie to me Max. All I
want you to do is tell me the truth, the truth Max, the fucking
truth,” her lips were quivering. She was straddled over him.
He could feel the warmth of her crotch against him.
“What truth are you talking about?”
“Max you know what I’m talking about, motherfuckin’
“Venessa? What, what are you talking about?”
“Did you fuck her Max?” She jammed the knife a little
harder and crinkled her face.
Max let out a small plea, “Babe stop.”
“Did you fuck her?”
Max moved his eyes to the side and strained under the
pressure of the knife. He saw his cell phone right next to his
wrist watch and his keys on the side table, there was a text
on the screen, and last night flew through his head in a flash.
There he was sitting at the Brooklyn Moon. It was
supposed to be just a regular after work meet up; grab a
glass of wine or beer. He had not seen Venessa in a few
months. Max was there first, he sat facing the door, not
because he was sitting by himself but more so because he
wanted to watch the women as they passed. He had a
problem with avoiding looking at women’s asses and the
stretch of Fulton Street between Lafayette and Green Ave
was notorious for having some of the most perfect backsides
in all of Brooklyn. The summer was ripe and so were the
women who wore as little as they could. A small speaker on
the floor pumped music into the room. Max was in a zone.
Something about this place just said sexy, the sun, the
smells coming from the kitchen, all the couples sitting across
from each other and looking into each other’s eyes. This
was beautiful, Max thought to himself. Why didn’t he and
his fiancé have this? The reflection of the sun came through
the trees that were across the street and for a moment Max
was struck blind. He felt the knife pushing harder into his
chin. He was back in his bed, looking up into Sophie’s hazel
“Max this is the last time I’m going to ask you. Did you fuck
her Max?” She stared into his face searching for truth, he
closed his eyes, and Bang. He was back in the Brooklyn
Moon. His vision was back and standing in the door way
like a glowing orb was Vanessa. Venessa was the complete
opposite of Sophie. She was into art and politics. She was
“free” in every way imaginable. She had a head of natural
hair that in and of itself was a statement to the world. Plus
she was thick. Not just normal thick but that good kind of
thick that you could not resist. And most of all she was a
flawless cocoa brown that Max secretly admired. She stood
in the door and waited for her eyes to adjust.
“Hey Max,” she walked over.
“Hey Sophie, look at you, Mm.”
“What?” she looked him up and down.
“Looking fine as ever.”
“Have a seat let me take a look at you.”
“Stop playing, how is your fiancé?”
And after that statement everything seemed like a blur. It
was only supposed to be drinks. After about four rounds,
bouts of laugher and an accidental awkward meeting of eyes,
they fell into a surreal groove. A kind of psychosexual
insanity raged through them both. And Bang, they found
themselves in the back of a yellow cab tearing the clothes off
of each other. It was not planned. It was all improv; they
were like two jazz musicians tearing into unknown musical
territory. And before he could think about it or she could
change her mind, his dick was being sucked beautifully by a
pair of what could probably be the sexiest lips in the world.
The driver kept his eye on the road as the night splashed
about outside the window. His fingers dug deeper and
deeper into her unshaven vagina. It was so watery he was
beside himself. Is this even possible he thought to himself.
He had always imagined what her pussy must have felt like
but this was beyond anything he could have conjured. He
slipped his fingers into her mouth and smeared a little of the
cream on her lips as she played with his fingers with her
tongue. He slipped his hands back up under her flowing
skirt, slid her across the seat of the cab and planted his face
fully into the sweet pleat. She gyrated against his tongue
and just kept getting wetter and wetter.
“225 Macon,” the cab driver said barely peering over his
shoulder. Max reached into his wallet, Sophie was getting
He stuffed a twenty into the little money window. Sophie
stepped out of the cab, he slid out behind her. And they
disappeared into her ground level brownstone apartment. It
took a few minutes to get the key into the hole, mainly
because she was distracted by him on his knees behind her
with his tongue pressed into her. His two palms held her
pelvis in place as she spun slow circles with her waist. She
got the key in and turned.
They did not even take a breath before he had her kneeling
on the floor in front of her bed with one leg thrown up on the
mattress and the other being eaten slowly by rug burn.
Every stroke came not from some desire to have mere sex
but a desire to be so deep inside of her that his dick was
numb with happiness. She moaned and pushed back against
him and he bit into her. She panted and begged him to grab
her hair and for him to pull it so hard that she howled as she
came and he felt her coming. The constriction of her inner
flesh against his dick motivated him to no end. This was
what he wanted; a woman who moaned and screamed and
told him to call her a whore and demanded he fuck her
harder. He felt an erotic kind of joy pounding in his chest.
Looking down on her beautiful brown body, smooth and
supple, just moving in such a fluid motion made him pause.
And inside his head he said a quiet prayer, then said.
“I want to fuck you like this every day. Let me fuck you like
this every day.”
She screamed back at him half panting, half moaning, half
thank you note, “yes you can fuck me like this anytime you
She came again. And he plunged deeper into all that
wetness. And Bang. He exploded. And a divine energy
coursed through his veins.
“This-is-the-best-pus-sy-I-have-e-ver-had,” he said in
And just like that he looked up at Sophie and said, “I did not
fuck her, ok.”
There was blood is Sophie’s eyes, “you fucking liar!”
She raised the knife above her head just as the sun was about
to rise and the light climbed into their spacious bedroom as
she slammed the knife into his chest. Max grabbed his chest
“Honey you ok?” Sophie reached over and passed her hand
across his chest. He was dreaming again. That shit was too
fucking real, he thought to himself.
Sophie made a sound that he knew ever so well. She wanted
to make love. They made love every morning. Like
clockwork. On schedule. It was 6:35. She was ready. She
tugged at him; he climbed on top of her. And approximately
eight and a half minutes later she was saying, “I’m coming, I
am coming. I. Am. Coming!” After she came, he got a
few extra strokes in and grunted and she nudged him off.
Yes he came. But was he satisfied? All he could think
about was Venessa.