Booty Call *69 (4 page)

We’re at his crib fifteen minutes later. His roommate is still at the party, and he’s not coming home any time soon. We begin to do our thing. He pulls up my leather mini skirt and lays me down on the carpet. He begins eating me out. He spreads my legs wide apart and sticks his tongue deep inside me. I moan with pleasure. He lifts his head up for air after several minutes. I’m done with the oral action anyway; it’s time for us to move on to the next stage. I want to fuck him. I get naked, and he gets to his feet and does the same. He has eight inches to play with, a chest like Tyson, the model, and a washboard stomach. I push him down to the floor, mount him and start riding that dick. I’m definitely feeling him up inside me; he’s so big and hard. It feels as though his cock is reaching into my stomach. He palms my ass with a tight grip, and he thrusts himself into me harder and harder, absorbing my juices and fulfilling my needs. He then turns me over to lie down on my stomach. He rams his rod into me from the back. I want to bite down on my tongue; he’s banging me so fast and so hard, and it feels so good. I claw the carpet and begin to pant. He speaks not one word as he fucks me vigorously. Position after position, the dick is feeling too good; it puts me in tears. This muthafucka, Tyrone, has strength, stamina and endurance. Thank God for him.

We feel no regret after we’re done. I needed exactly what he just gave me. My pussy has definitely been scratched. I get up and begin to get dressed. I zip up my skirt as he buckles his jeans, but we don’t leave right away; Tyrone has other treats in store. He goes to his bedroom and comes
back out with a phat blunt—some bomb Haze. We smoke and talk as we continue to get high and fondle each other. I am definitely feeling this niggah’s groove.

Tyrone drops me off at my front door a few hours later. He kisses me goodnight. “Whenever you need that favor again, you know who to call,” he says.

I nod my head, get out of the car and walk to my front door. I turn around and watch him drive off the block when I finally begin to feel guilty.
Damn, Jakim would trip right now if he knew his man kissed me goodnight and dropped me off at my door.
My eyes dart about nervously, looking to see if his car is parked anywhere on the block. Luckily for me, it’s not. I’m in the clear—not that it really makes a difference;
we’re not together anymore
, I try to convince myself.

I go inside and see my aunt all over some man on the living room couch. His pants are down, and her blouse is fully open. She smiles at me and asks if I had a good night. I smile back and tell her that my night was too good to me. She feels where I’m coming from and continues doing her thing with her male company. The one thing about us females in this house is that we aren’t humble or shy when it comes to getting our freak on in front of each other. I remember the time I came home early from school and caught my moms ass naked on the floor, with some red-bone niggah in between her knees. It didn’t take a miracle to know or see what was going on. She looked up at me, grinned, asked why was I home from school so early and then went right back on with her business—not giving a fuck that I caught or interrupted them both. Shit, there were a few times when my mother caught me and Jakim doing our thing. She would always ask if I was using protection. That’s the only thing she was concerned about.

I get ready for bed, but I can’t stop thinking about Tyrone and it’s bugging me. I don’t know what it is—maybe just the good dick and get-high afterward…or maybe I’m catching feelings for the man. Shit, I hope not; that would cause problems. Yet and still, no matter how hard I try to stop thinking about him, he keeps creeping back into my head. I throw the sheets over myself and try to get a good night’s rest—without Jakim, Danny or Tyrone in my thoughts.

“Yo, Ja, you shoulda came through last night,” Evay tells me. “There were mad bitches at that club.”

“Word?” I respond nonchalantly. I’m hearing Evay talk, but I’m really not listening. My mind is preoccupied with something else.

“Yeah, Jakim…it was me, Tyrone, Lovell and Rocky. I bagged like two numbers last night.”

We’re chilling on the corner of Hollis Avenue and 200
^th
Street, gulping down forties and passing the evening away by getting drunk and watching the ladies stroll by. I’m leaned up against my Maxima with a forty clutched in my hand. Evay continues to talk, and he informs me about his dynamic night at this new club on Merrick Boulevard.

“Yo, I’m gonna try and fuck this bitch I met last night by next week, son—watch, Ja.”

I take another swig from the forty and pass it to Evay. He downs a mouthful. Evay’s a hefty fuck and not too easy on the eyes, but he’s mad cool. He talks a lot, but that’s Evay, always in your ear about this and that,
and sometimes even other people’s business. He doesn’t mean any harm, though. He stays trying to be a playa or a pimp, but most times with no success. Some girls have given him a little play, but Evay gets as much action as the Knicks have championship rings.

“Ay, yo, Shana was there, too.”

Now that catches my attention. “What? She was?” I ask.

“Yeah, Ja—and she was lookin’ good, too.”

“Who she came with?”

“She came wit’ her girls—Sasha, Naja and that ho, Latish. Damn, I wanna fuck dat bitch. Yo, Ja, she got a man?”

I ignore his lustful inquiry about Latish and ask more questions about Shana. “Yo, did she dance wit’ anyone?”

“She kept mostly to herself, but she did dance with Tyrone.”

“Oh, word?”

I can’t help but get a bit jealous, thinking about Shana going out and grinding on the next niggah. And even worse, taking it a step further and
fuckin
’ da next niggah. I still have strong feelings for her, but she’s acting like a bitch about us getting back together again.

“Evay, who she leave with?” I ask.

Evay is quiet now. He stares off in the distance, and I know it’s bad whenever the niggah hesitates to give me an answer; so I answer for him: “She left wit’ some other niggah last night, right?”

“Nah, man—she was just doin’ her,” he explains. But I know Evay’s hiding something from me. He passes the forty back to me, and I quickly down it until it’s empty.

I’m beginning to feel even more jealous, entertaining thoughts about Shana fuckin’ some other niggah last night. I was the only man in her
life for more than two years. Shana fuckin’ other niggahs is a hard possibility to swallow. She’s still my prize, and that pussy is so hard to give up. I try to contain my emotions in front of Evay, but inside I’m truly hurting from our break-up.

“Ja, you okay?” Evay asks.

“Yeah, I’m aiight,” I lie, becoming aloof as I stare off into space thinking about Shana.

“Yo, don’t stress dat shit, Ja. I’m sure Shana ain’t fuckin’ other niggahs.”

“Niggah, how you know?” I shout. “You wit’ her twenty-four seven?”

“No, but—”

“Whatever, man! Fuck her!” I continue to shout, becoming frustrated by the thought of her fuckin’ the next niggah. Evay looks like I’ve hurt his feelings. He stands there quietly, at a loss for words.

“Yo, I ain’t mean to scream on you, Evay…my bad ‘bout dat.”

“It ain’t nothin’, Ja. I’m a big boy; I can handle it.”

I get up off my car and hurl the forty, smashing it against a brick wall.

“You sure you’re aiight?”

I nod my head. “I’m out, son.”

“Yo, I’m gonna meet Tyrone and da fellows later on Jamaica Ave. You comin’ through?” Evay asks.

“I’m gonna think about it,” I say jumping into my car. I sit in the driver’s seat for a few minutes, contemplating whether or not to give Shana a call. My heart is telling me to call her, but my ego is saying,
fuck dat bitch!
I listen to my ego and decide to make other moves right now. I pick up my
phone and dial a quick booty call. I know she’s guaranteed ass for the day; every time I call, she never tells me no. I’m horny, and fuckin’ with her would help me take my mind off of Shana for a minute.

I speed dial her number and she picks up after the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, what’s up, love?”

“Hey, you, what’s going on? I ain’t heard from you in a few days. You okay?” she asks with concern.

“Yeah, I’m good. So what’s going on wit’ you?”

“Nothin’. You comin’ through?”

I smile knowingly. “Dat’s why I called.”

“I hear dat, baby. I miss you.”

“So what you got for me?”

“Same thing I had for you last time.”

“Oh, word?” My smile grows bigger. The last time we hooked up, she gave me head for an hour. And her pussy is good. “Aiight, I’ll be at your place in fifteen minutes. You cool wit’ dat?”

“Yeah, just come through. You know you miss it.”

I laugh, hang up and start my engine. I keep telling myself that I’m not gonna stress Shana as I drive to my booty call’s destination. I have a pack of Trojans in the glove compartment and a hard-on as I think about the pussy I’m about to get into.

I drive down Farmers Boulevard doing fifty miles per hour. So far I’m lucky that I’m not getting pulled over by 5-0. I make a right on Linden Boulevard and another right a few blocks down on 179
^th
Street. She lives in a basement apartment of a two-story brick home in a prestigious area. I pull into a parking space out front and quickly exit my ride. I strut to the
side entrance of her basement apartment. I ring her bell twice and stand off to the side, waiting for her to come to the door.

She appears almost instantly, opening the screen door with a Colgate smile. “Hey, baby.” She throws her petite arms around my neck and embraces me. She then gives me a quick kiss on the lips. I have to step back and admire her rawness; there’s no shame in her game—coming to the door in a pair of lacy, boy-shorts and a T-shirt so scanty that it barely covers her tits. “You like?” she asks throwing herself into a quick pose for me to admire.

“Yeah, I love how you get down,” I reply.

“You gonna stand out here and drool, or come inside and handle your business?”

“What you think?” She playfully pulls me by my shirt into the doorway and drags my ass down the steps to her place.

Latish is a freak on a level that most niggahs can’t handle. Like I said before, she never says no to the dick. Even on her period, she wants to fuck a niggah, but running red lights ain’t my thing. She’s got every sex toy imaginable locked away in her bedroom closet. I mean, she even has a swing that hangs down from the ceiling; you strap a bitch in and fuck her as the two of you just swing away...it’s crazy. We tried it once and I have to admit, it was definitely an experience I’ll never forget.

Latish and I started fucking a few days after Shana and I broke up. But to be honest, we’ve had a few affairs even when Shana and I were together. Of course she knew about Shana at the time, but she didn’t care; the dick was too good to her and she wasn’t trying to give it up, despite her friendship with my ex-girlfriend.

I hear a song by Jagged Edge. The lyrics of
Promise
blast from the
six speakers situated throughout the room. I stand in the center of her living room as she slowly begins unbuttoning my shirt and saturates my neck with slow, pleasing kisses. She pulls my collared shirt down around my shoulder blades, and her lips and tongue go to work on my nipples. I let out a slight moan and grab a handful of her beautiful silky hair.

Latish’s basement apartment is lavishly decorated in imported leather furniture and African décor. She definitely has taste. Her dark-skinned complexion, well-toned body and full, glossy lips give her the appearance of an African beauty.

Latish slowly removes my shirt and continues to kiss my body passionately. She gradually makes her way down to my crotch area, and she gets down on her knees and begins undoing the zipper to my jeans. I watch her reach into my pants and pull out my dick.

“Ooh, baby, dat’s what I’m talkin’ about,” she purrs while smiling up at me. She gently strokes my hard-on, teasing me.

She kisses around the tip of my dick, and then she slowly places it on her tongue. I let out a slight moan.

“Stop teasing me and suck my dick already,” I say impatiently.

Latish continues to smile, gripping my erection in her hand. The bitch can be such a tease with the dick until it gets to a point where you become annoyed. But once she puts your dick in her mouth, it’s a wrap. She can suck a dick so long and strong that she can make a niggah’s forehead cave in.

“I thought you liked being teased, baby,” she says stroking my shaft tenderly in her soft grip.

“I do, but damn, you know how you do, baby.” She lets out a slight laugh. And then she leans forward and devours my dick, causing me to gasp
and clench her shoulders. I look down at the top of her head and watch her bob back and forth, her strong jaw going to work on my shit.

“Aaaaaahhh…damn…oooh, Latish…shit,” I cry out. My jeans are down around my ankles as I stand in the center of her living room, getting my blowjob on. Not once does Shana come to mind. “Yo, I need to sit down,” I tell her, feeling my knees buckling.

I carefully back-step toward the couch, my jeans still around my ankles with Latish in tow—still on her knees and still holding my dick in her hand. I plop down on her couch and step out of my pants. Latish positions herself on her soft, leather couch and starts kissing my nipples. She slowly slides her way down to my stomach, back toward my shaft again. I grunt and throw my head back as I grip a handful of her smooth, black hair. Her exceptional blowjob goes on for at least twenty minutes, and I have to fight to keep from cumming in her mouth like I did the past few times. But Latish loves it when a niggah comes in her mouth; she becomes more aggressive, a fuckin’ freak.

Shortly after my blowjob, Latish stands up and comes out of her boy-shorts, but she keeps on her scanty T-shirt. Her pubic hair is cut very low and trimmed nicely. And her apple bottom ass makes a niggah want to fuck her in the butt—which, mind you, I’ve done many times before.