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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 exceled. 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 conedshaped 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 , a real onehour knockhersocksoff pummeling, he could recover in less than five minutes for a second round of that was just as intense as the first. Norman was an incredible piston, as slick and powerful as the other pride of his life, his black BMW 740. He was fine tuned for . He had power to spare. He could drive it home not just once, but twice with only a small pause to refuel. He was a ual 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 goodbye and drove off to work. However, at the end of the street his BMW 740 turned left and climbed up the deadend semicircle 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 then 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 creeped 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 highpitched 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 his wife infuriated him. He did not consider himself a jealous man, but this was betrayal. This was his best friend having 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 ual 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 , 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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