Booty call

A phone rings…

Half asleep, Chantelle grabs her cell phone off the nightstand. She glances over at her alarm clock and sees that it’s a quarter past twelve. Who the hell is calling me at this hour, she thinks angrily while answering. “Hello!”

“Hello, may I speak to Chantelle.” the man’s voice on the other end is deep and polite. Whoever he is, he may be polite, but he still has no respect for a person’s rest.

“Who is this?” Chantelle asked, half groggy, half angry.

“Its Juan…I met you a couple weeks ago at Club Infinity. I’m the guy that your girls kept saying was cute.”

“Cute! My girls think every guy is cute when they’ve had enough drinks. They were probably drunk as usual, so I’m sorry but you’ll need to be a little more specific than that.”

“Fine,” he half giggled. “I was hoping like hell not to have to jar your memory like that…but I’m the guy that they kept saying had a nice ass. There…I said it.” The gentleman sounded embarrassed.

Still half asleep, Chantelle managed to force out a groggily giggle. “Oh yeah, now I remember you, Bootyman.” Chantelle remembered him quite well, actually. He was an average looking light skin brother that kept making eye contact with her friend Rebekkah, the whole night. They all thought he was some crazed psycho at first, before he finally came over and introduced himself. After Rebekkah turned down his wannabe player game, he had the nerve to pull Chantelle aside on the way out the club and get her number. This was after he got turned down by another one of her friends.

“So you got jokes, I see.”

To avoid looking easy, Chantelle gave him her best version of a hard time. “No, but you must do…calling me at this hour, on a weeknight. A girl does have a job, you know. And excuse me, but if I met you a couple of weeks ago, why are you just now calling?”

“First, let me apologize for calling you this late. I sometimes lose track of time because of my job.” He was trying to prompt Chantelle’s interest in what he does for a living. Only pompous men with glorified careers try this. “Second, I wanted to call you that very next day after we met, but I got called out of town on business.” Again, he was prompting Chantelle’s curiosity.

Chantelle believed his story about as much as she believed every other lie that came out a man’s mouth. Especially a man she had met in a club. She had heard and fell for more excuses than she had fingers and toes. Why won’t men just come right out and tell women that what they really want is a fuck—nothing more, nothing less. Better yet, why after peeping their true intentions, she still allowed herself to become another one of their many fuck notches on their bedposts?

“So what is it that you do, Juan?” Chantelle asked, entertaining his bullshit by asking the question he’d been itching for her to ask.

“I’m an NBA scout, but I don’t really like telling people. Someone always winds up asking me to hook them up with tickets, or to meet their favorite player.” He bragged. “I mean, I do know all the major ball players, and go to all the major parties and events, but I don’t like mixing my business life with my personal life.”

“Scout, huh. Must be nice,” She said, trying to sound impressed, though she wasn’t. “Well, Juan, it been nice talking to you but—”

“Hey!” he blurted desperately, cutting her off before she ended the conversation. “I just got back in town and I was hoping that I could see you again.”

“Now! At this hour…can’t it wait until tomorrow, after I get off work? We can do dinner and a movie, or something?” Chantelle wasn’t born yesterday, she knew what he wanted when she answered the phone and heard that the voice on the other end belonged to a man.

“Uhhh…can’t do tomorrow…I have to fly to the west coast to scout a player, and I probably won’t get back until next week some time.” Juan couldn’t hide his impatience, saying whatever he could to keep Chantelle on the phone, and hopefully buy him some more time to game her into letting him come over. “I really wanted to see your pretty face again before I left, so I would have a reason to rush back.”

Chantelle’s bullshit meter had reached an all-time high and was still climbing, but she didn’t let on. “So I suppose you want me to invite you over so we can talk, huh?”

“Only if you don’t mind the company. And seeing how you have to get up in the morning for work, I could just spend the night and go to the airport from your place. I’d sleep on the couch of course, if you don’t feel comfortable with a stranger in your bed.”

I’ll sleep on the couch of course; she repeated the lame line in her head. Chantelle learned long ago that no game that a man ran
was original. Anything that one guy said to try and get into her panties had been used by a different man in the past. It was all just worn out recycled garbage, though she went along anyway. “Ok, you can come over, but only on one condition.”

Now this was down Juan’s alley. His dick was swelling with enthusiasm when he responded. “Just name it,” he said, trying to suppress the excitement in his voice. It didn’t matter, he was a man, and Chantelle knew he was no different from the others.

“You have to promise me that as soon as you get back in town, that you’ll take me out to dinner. No fast food; no drive-thru…a sit down restaurant.” She knew what the answer would be before it even left his mouth. She had entertained every kind of bullshit artist imaginable. All hard dicks always talked soft until they got what they wanted.

“Is that all?” Juan was relieved. He knew all he had to do now was say the right thing, and his cock would be swimming in wet pussy before daybreak. Piece of cake! “I thought you were going to ask me to do something hard—with your fine self.” Throwing in a compliment for good measure. His enthusiasm and anticipation was damn near jumping through the phone, so he felt the need to tell an even bigger lie, to ensure it was a done deal. “I’ll do even better; when I get back we’ll take a weekend trip to Niagara Falls, or maybe even Vegas.”

Chantelle knew this was a crock of shit and was now furious, though, she didn’t show it. This man didn’t know her from a can of paint, so why in the hell would he spend that kind of money on a total stranger. None of the others did…so why would he. If anything, he just wanted to hit it and quit it—just like all the others. But like them, he would get taught a lesson as well.

“Awww, that’s so sweet of you. Albeit your girlfriend worships the ground that you walk on.”

“Now you might not believe this,” he said, sounding as if he was about to drop the mother load of surprises. “I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment. Correction…that is, not before I met this fine dime piece in the club with her girls a few weeks ago.”

Now he was really pouring it on thick, and making Chantelle even angrier. Dime piece…Girlfriend. He was definitely getting his before this night was over.

“You don’t mind me being a little overweight?” Chantelle asked with the slyness of a woodsman laying a bear trap.

“Shit! Just more to hold on to if you ask me. I just loves me a big boned woman.” He said with emphasis.

Chantelle had heard enough. She felt her blood pressure climbing steadily as she thought back to that night in the club. Each of her friends that Mr. Liar on the other end of the phone tried to hook up with were just as skinny as Popeye’s girlfriend, Olive Oyl. If he couldn’t be forthcoming about his intentions, she’d just have to do it for him. “Well since you put it that way—do you know how to get to the Jefferson Apartments?

“Who doesn’t?” Juan replied ecstatically. “In fact, that’s only a ten minute drive from my place.

“Good, I’ll see you in about fifteen or twenty minutes, ok? Building five…apartment sixteen.”

“I’m on my way!”

And with that, they both hang up.


After pressing the off button, Chantelle lays there in the still darkness for a moment, contemplating if whether or not Juan really deserved what she had in store for him. Hell yeah, he deserved it. And so did all the others that considered her to be nothing more than their fuck toy. Like them, Juan would also have one more opportunity to redeem himself before it was too late. Getting up out of her bed, she turned the bedroom light on, walked over to the vanity mirror and took a long disgusted look at herself. Just one year ago, she was engaged to be married to the man of her dreams, only to find out at the last minute that he was cheating on her with every Tom, Dick, and Harry. Family and friends all kept telling her that she should be glad that she found out the truth before she walked down the isle and exchanged sacred vows. That God was looking over her and stepped in before it was too late. Easy for them to say! It was a lot easier for everyone to give advice when they were on the outside looking in…but they would never know what it felt like being her. They would never know what it felt like to always be considered a man’s backup plan because you’re a sure thing.

Stripping down to nothing but the fine hairs on her Vagina, Chantelle waited for her guest like a Venus flytrap waits for a fly to land. When the doorbell rang, she didn’t bother covering up—why play games, they both knew what was about to go down. When she opened the door, Juan was flabbergasted. “Well Damn! And to think that I thought you were shy.”

“So are you just going to stand out there all night or are you going to come in?” Afterwards, she turned and walked away, making sure that her prey had a good look at the bait (her fat juicy ass) to lure him inside. Before Juan stepped across the threshold, he looked both ways, as if considering the possibilities of this being a setup, and at any moment expected a couple of thugs to jump out from the dark and rob him. After sticking his head inside and seeing no one, the lure of Chantelle’s ass was too daunting for his hard dick to resist. He came inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Make sure that it’s locked before you come to bed.” Chantelle hollered from the bedroom. “This ain’t exactly the suburbs.”

As Juan locked the door, an uneasy feeling passed over him, and he had the weirdest thought that he was sealing his own fate. He’d heard similar stories of people having eerie premonitions just before something bad was about to happen but he himself could never relate…until now. Just a little peek won’t hurt, he convinced himself as he locked the door and followed her voice back to the bedroom.

When he made it to the door, he saw Chantelle already on her knees on the bed, bent over with a finger in her pussy, playing with herself. Speechless and lightheaded, Juan was forced to lean against the door to keep from falling over. This was too good to be true. As he watched, tongue wagging like a hungry mutt, looking at a juicy steak, his silent gaze was broken by Chantelle’s lusty invite.

“I know you didn’t wake me up at this hour just to come over here and talk.” she said while sticking first one, and then two fingers in and out of her pussy. And if that weren’t enough to drive the point home to Juan, she gave herself a hard slap on the ass—causing it to jiggle for days—before spreading it apart with both hands so that her chocolate split was visible even from where Juan was standing.

If this was meant to be a test, Juan knew he had no doubt failed. It wasn’t every day that a guy could call up a complete stranger for a booty call in the middle of the night and not have to put any effort forward to get the ass. As he entered the candlelit room, in the back of his head he couldn’t wait to tell the fellas about his unbelievable fortune. He walked up behind Chantelle’s moon size ass like a hunter that had just approached his kill. He was proud of his game-spitting abilities tonight. Never had a piece of ass fell in his lap so easy…so effortlessly. Although that night at the club, Chantelle was his third option, seeing her big round ass sitting in his face made him glad that he had gotten her number after all. And to think, he wasn’t the least bit attracted to her. He only got her number because the club was closing and he didn’t want to leave empty handed. Besides, his friends did say that after the lights go out all pussy looked the same.

Chantelle’s pussy was getting wetter and wetter each time she spread her big brown ass cheeks apart, letting them go to jiggle shut. Forget about trying to keep my cool, Juan thought. That was gone the moment he stepped into the bedroom. Holding back no longer, Juan had his clothes off in the blink of an eye, and was going for the gusto with his rigid dick buried deep inside Chantelle’s alluring pussy.

As he dipped in and out, he gripped both sides of her thick voluptuous hips with a firm hold and plunged his dick deeper into her fat clit. Although Chantelle had an ulterior motive, she was still enjoying the dick, pound for pound—scooting back to engulf it in its entirety while tightening her vagina muscles around Juan’s thick shaft. “You didn’t think a thicky thick girl could put it on you like this, did you?” she moaned while giving a little extra oomph against his pelvis. “That’s the best you can do—FUCK me like you mean it…or is that too much ass for you to handle back there?”

Chantelle’s talking was sending Juan over the edge as he switched his imaginary gears to overdrive; bear hugged her wide waist from behind, and started giving her long, hard deep power thrusts of his dick. The pity pat smacking sound of his thighs, smacking against her fat ass was growing louder with each stroke, which began to stir up a funky, yet stimulating smell of sex that stood dominion over the candle’s potpourri scent. This was a one night stand to go down in history, Juan thought as he beat the ass up from behind, his dick furiously jabbing in and out of Chantelle’s wet pussy in search of that all mighty nut. “Hurry up and sit that fat ass on my dick and ride me so I cum.”

When Juan pulled his dick out of Chantelle’s fat pussy, a long snotty string of her excitement was still attached as he got on the bed for her to climb on top. Before climbing on top of his dick, Chantelle surprised him, by sucking her own juices off and then climbing on top and sliding it in her tight asshole. “FUCK!” Juan yelled, as his dick slid deeper and deeper into her anus until it reached bottom.

Chantelle was now effortlessly humping Juan’s dick as though it were really in her pussy—and not her tight ass—while telling him to “Cum in that shitty ass, Daddy…Cum all in my shit box…” She then sat back, taking all of him inside her tight ass, grinding ferociously on his hard dick, before leaning over for her double D titties to hang down into his mouth. “Bite’em, bitch!” she demanded, as Juan sucked and bit her prominent nipples barbarically until both he and her reached that orgasmic apex of sin—him filling her asshole to the brim with hot cum, as she screamed, “GOD…HAVE…mercy…FUCK!”

Afterwards, they both were so exhausted that neither had the strength to take a shower, and just laid beside one another in bliss. Chantelle was the first to fall asleep, while Juan gave himself a hardy pat on the back for a job well done. As he glanced down at Chantelle’s juicy ass—facing him as she laid on her side—he smiled to himself at the sight of steady cum stream leaking out of her asshole onto the bed. I just love freaks, he thought with a smile before drifting off to sleep.



***

Two months later in the apartment of another booty call victim, Juan was at it again. Both he and some petite blond—with breast implants the size of Texas, and who’s name he no longer remembered—are going at it strong, fucking up a storm in her queen size bed while the television plays loudly in the background to help drown out the sound of the squeaking bedsprings. Chantelle is a distant memory in Juan’s mind, ever since she played him by not bothering to return any of his countless phone calls for another mind blowing sexual tryst. Though there had been many women after that night, all of them came a far second to Chantelle. At least three times a week he now found himself masturbating to the vivid memory of their shared orgasm. Players don’t settle down with one night stands, he tried convincing himself on countless occasions. Especially ones that they were no way whatsoever attracted to. But the sex was soooooo damn good.

Juan occasionally thought about driving by Chantelle’s place but scratched that thought after talking to his boys. “Players for life, niggah,” they would always say. “Why you sweating that hoe, anyway, when there’s so much more ass out here with your name on it?” It wasn’t until after he and his blond bombshell had finished handling grown folks business, that he saw and heard something that would have a sudden epiphany.

Approximately twenty minutes after catching their breath from humping their brains out, Juan’s new notch on the bedpost was making her way over to the television to turn it off when he suddenly stopped her.

“Hold up…I know her!” he blurted, his attention drawn to the television, with the look of a man that had just been told he had six months to live.


Just in from Channel 7 News

“Police have apprehended and charged 28 year old Chantelle Hayes with attempted murder. Police say that they have strong evidence that Ms. Hayes has known that she was HIV positive for twelve months and have knowingly engaged in unprotected sex. Under Michigan State Law, HIV positive persons engaging in unprotected sex is the same as attempted murder with a loaded gun. If convicted, Chantelle could spend the rest of her life in prison.”

When questioned as to why she would knowingly sleep with different men without informing them of her HIV status, all she had to say was, “What I did, I did for every booty call victim out there that has ever been considered nothing more than a late night piece of ass.”


Turning back around to look at Juan, in shock his nameless friend looked horrified. “Oh my God, it’s some crazies in the world. Hey…can I ask how you know her?”

Visibly shaken and distraught, Juan seemed to be staring off into the twilight zone. “She just looked like someone I use to know, that’s all.” Juan’s stomach was in knots. He felt like putting a gun to his own head and pulling the trigger. “Hey, I better go…I gotta get up for work in the morning.”

“What did you say you did again?

“I’m a UPS driver.”

“I could have sworn you said you were an NBA scout?”

“Naw, you must have misheard me. Hey, I gotta go.” When Juan put his clothes on and left, he was a changed man.


***



Eight months later, Juan finally got up the courage to go and have himself tested for HIV. He’d been dating a new woman named Sheila the whole time that he’d met on one of his UPS routes. The two had been together for eight whole months without engaging in sexual intercourse, because Sheila made it a strict rule to only sleep with partners that agreed to get tested. She had two little girls that she said were more important to her than a meaningless fuck that could possibly take her away from them. Juan never told Sheila about Chantelle, because he feared she would leave—but he also knew that there was only one way they could be together. He would have to get tested.

It was at that time he would learn that by God’s grace, he was indeed HIV negative.

It was that close encounter with death that Juan turned in his player card and settled down. And as for his boys that subscribed to the slogan players for life.

They’re still in the field being players…