Bang Bang Bang

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.

Chapter One

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 Max!”

“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

eyes.

“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.”

She smiled.

“Have a seat let me take a look at you.”

“Stop playing, how is your fiancé?”

“She’s good.”

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

herself together.

“How Much?”

“9 dollars.”

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

waaaaaaant!”

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

staccato.

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

and gasped.

“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.