Double Bang

Plunging into his wife, Audrey, for the second time that
night should have been easy for Norman. At 42 years of
age, he was a slightly balding, but lean advertising
executive. His chest and stomach were firm but not
muscular. He knew his appearance was unexceptional. It
was in performance that he excelled. Norman prided
himself on his double bangs.

With his wife’s legs spread before him, Norman poised
over her savoring the moment. He knew everything about
his wife. It was like surveying the instrument panel of
his BMW. Audrey was wet. She was laying straight on her
back with her legs splayed. Her long black hair was
cascading in disarray around her head. A light sheen of
perspiration gleamed from her forehead. Her breasts
thrust up from her chest like coned-shaped headlights
with red tipped centers. She made little dog like yelps
of encouragement to let Norman know when she wanted him
to fuck her harder.

When she climaxed, tiny tremors of orgasmic aftershocks
jiggled her boobs. Her body was on her side of the bed
so he never ended up sleeping in the wet spot. Norman
knew everything about his wife except what was in her
heart. Later, he realized that he never knew his wife.
He never knew her at all.

He started lowering himself onto her.

He was hard again.

He was ready.

Audrey twisted.

She turned away from him.

“Hey, what the hell!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Turn back over.”

“No. I don’t need a double bang tonight.”

“Why not?”

“You were perfect the first time.”

“I’m even better the second time.”

“No, I don’t need it again.”

“But I do it for you.”

“I’m too sensitive down there. Let’s sleep.”

Norman was stunned. He had double fucked his wife
regularly and successfully for the past 5 years. After
giving his wife a complete fucking, a real one hour
knock-her-socks-off pummeling, he could recover in less
than five minutes for a second round of sex that was
just as intense as the first.

Norman was an incredible sex piston, as slick and
powerful as the other pride of his life, his black BMW
740. He was fine tuned for sex. He had power to spare.
He could drive it home not just once, but twice with
only a small pause to re-fuel. He was a sexual dream
machine.

“Are you sure?”

“Not tonight honey.”

“I do it for you.”

“I know.”

Norman turned away from Audrey shutting her off with
silence. Deeply wounded, he pretended to sleep to hide
the hurt, biding his time until he could find out what
was wrong. A woman was no different than a finely tuned
BMW. If it started backfiring, you shut it down to cut
the damages until you could fix the problem. Audrey had
never refused a double bang. Audrey had problems. Norman
would be the fixer.

**

The next morning, Norman pretended last night’s problems
had been forgotten. He politely kissed his wife good-bye
and drove off to work. However, at the end of the street
his BMW 740 turned left and climbed up the dead-end
semi-circle drive of the hill behind his house. He
parked and waited.

From his vantage point, he could look down on the small
green oval of grass that was his front yard and the
black roof of his house. After a half hour wait, his
wife backed out of the driveway in her green Volvo. He
watched as the car went two blocks and turned right
before he followed. He was afraid of losing her. He
thought tracking his wife would be difficult. He
expected a mystery. He wanted it to be hard. Her car
only traveled six short blocks. Norman knew where she
was going before she arrived. The truth crushed him.
Audrey was headed to Big Bob’s house.

Easy going Big Bob Simpson and his wife Julie were
Norman’s best friends. Bob was a gentle giant, with a
beer belly. He was a good four inches taller than Norman
and weighed more than 320 pounds. Norman never would
have guessed, but he now suspected that Bob’s nickname
had nothing to do with his height or the size of his
belly. No matter how closely together you drove two
BMW’s through a tunnel it was never the same as one 40
foot black limousine. Could this huge slug of a man be
having an affair with his wife? Was it possible? He had
to know.

After a suitable wait, Norman slipped out of his car and
walked down the pathway on the side of Big Bob’s house
to the gate. It was closed with a simple garden latch
attached to a pull string. Quietly he crept around to
the back bedroom window. The blinds were shut tight, but
the window was slightly open. He could hear his wife.

“Ooh, I’ve missed you,” Audrey sighed.

There was a rustling sound of her dress being removed.
He heard a noise like a shoe falling to the floor. Then
a deep throaty groan was followed by a series of high
pitched yelps of joy from his wife.

Tears brimming in his eyes, blinded with fury, Norman
turned away from the window.

The thought of another man fucking his wife infuriated
him. He did not consider himself a jealous man, but this
was betrayal. This was his best friend having sex with
his wife. This was losing face. It was like hand
polishing your BMW until it gleamed and having someone
spit on it. It was obscene. Big Bob was not even worthy
of his wife. He was fat. How could she fuck someone like
him? How could she?

Returning home from work, Norman probed his wife for
answers. She was in the kitchen making coffee when he
started the questioning.

“What did you do today?”

“I went downtown window shopping.”

“You didn’t happen to see Bob or Julie did you?”

“No, but Julie invited us for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. She telephoned just before you got home.

“Dinner at Big Bob’s is just what I need.”

For the second time that day, Norman drove to Big Bob’s
house, but this time his wife, Audrey sat beside him.
When Bob opened the door, Audrey ignored him and walked
to the kitchen to help Julie with the dinner. After Bob
smiled and offered him a beer, Norman drew his gun.

“You fucked my wife today, didn’t you?”

“Are you crazy?”

“Asshole!”

“Just put the gun down.”

“Asshole! I heard you through the bedroom window.”

“But it wasn’t me.”

“It was your bedroom.”

“I swear it wasn’t me.”

Pointing the revolver directly at Bob’s stomach, Norman
persisted.

“Tell me the truth or I’ll gut shoot you.”

“So you came here to bang me?”

“No, I came to kill you.”

“Bang me and you’ll just be banging yourself.”

The sexual innuendo hit Norman like a kick in the groin.
His wife must have shared descriptions of his double
bangs with her illicit fat lover. He refused to let Big
Bob emasculate him. His pride forced him to respond. His
mind seethed with rage. He responded, by habit, with his
own witticism punctuated by shooting his gun.

“It’ll be a double bang.”

Norman pulled the trigger twice.

Stunned by the noise of the dual explosions, Norman
dropped the gun. He remained frozen, emotionally spent,
while Audrey and Julie ran out of the kitchen. Someone
must have called the police because the next thing
Norman remembered was being handcuffed and forced to sit
on the hard plastic seat in the rear of a police car.

Before he was driven to jail, his wife bent down next to
the rear window of the police car. Norman expected her
to yell, to curse him for shooting her lover, but the
red and blue flashing lights of the police car washing
over her face made her look cool and calm.

Like a tropical fish in an aquarium, she mouthed the
words through the glass window. With the roar from the
gun still ringing in his ears, it was hard for him to
understand. Audrey repeated the words slowly.

“Your last double bang was perfect.”

At first, he thought she was talking about sex, trying
to make him feel better. As the police car pulled away
from the curb, he realized she meant the two gunshots.
But that made even less sense. Searching for an answer,
he swiveled around in the backseat.

Looking through the rear window of the police car, he
saw Audrey and Julie holding each other, hugging, on the
front lawn. They were consoling each other over their
mutual loss.

As the police car turned the corner, he saw them kiss
each other on the lips.

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