Jason Cannon: Stripper wife

Barry Price fought his way up, through the hangover mist in his brain, until he was teetering on the thin edge between sleep and wakefulness.

There was something strange about the reaction of the mattress under him when he moved. When he shifted his weight the mattress seemed to dip towards the center of the bed. This would only happen if there were someone else in bed with him.

He slid his hand slowly across the bed under the blanket. His fingers touched something soft and smooth and warm. Now his ears detected the sound of another pair of lungs breathing raggedly. He let his fingers trace the outline of the warm, soft, smooth object.

It could only be one thing: the tender cheek of a very nice ass. So Barry knew he was in bed with someone. His searching fingers came to the furrow between the ass cheeks. He probed between them and on down to the space between the thighs. There his fingers found the furry crack of a cunt.

He sighed in relief; at least he wasn't in bed with a man. It was hard to tell sometimes what crazy stunts he could pull when he went off the deep end and let the booze get to him.

He forced his eyes open and rolled over to look at his companion. She lay on her stomach with her face away from him. The blanket covered her only as far as the middle of her back, and above it she was nude. Her breasts must be large, he reasoned, because there was a wealth of them pressing outward beneath her.

At least that was good – Barry was one hell of a tit man.

She had thick long blonde hair and it fanned out over her shoulder blades. The blonde hair stirred his memory; he had a faint picture of tight pants, and a tighter, well-filled sweater. But he still couldn't put a face on, that picture. In fact he couldn't remember where he'd met her, or even where he'd started his binge.

Gently he rolled her over and his eyes went directly to the jutting, pink-tipped mounds that leapt to attention on her chest. They were big, all right, and as firm as they could be. He wanted to suck on them at once, but the throb in his head got in the way.

His first look at her face put him in an excellent mood. He was getting better and better at picking them while being juiced out of his mind. This one was a real beauty. Her lips, devoid of lipstick, were full and pouty, and they were a pale pink. She had a fine nose and high cheekbones which gave her a gaunt hungry look.

He wondered if he had fucked her and, if so, if it had been good; for both of them. He hoped so. This one would have been a real waste to flake out on.

Damn, he thought, I got to stop this boozin' so much.

He rolled from the bed and staggered in the direction he thought the bath would be. The girl in the bed looked like class. She didn't fit the apartment and he again wondered how the hell they had gotten together.

He adjusted the shower to the right temperature and stepped into the tub. He let the water beat the fuzz out of his brain and then soaped himself down completely. His cock was a little sore so he assumed that he had gotten fucked-and probably more than once.

After toweling his body dry he found the kitchen and put on some coffee. When the machine started making noise Barry returned to the bedroom.

The sleeping girl had taken advantage of his absence. She now lay sprawled clear across the width of the big bed. She was on her back and the blanket had slipped from her voluptuous body to the floor. Barry could see all of her and it all looked good.

Her legs were long and lean and smooth, with just a few little blue veins showing high up near where they met her pussy. Her belly was gently rounded and the navel seemed to wink at him. Her waist was tiny. Under her fine, tanned skin he could see the outlines of her ribs. The gently curling fur on her cunt barely hid the pink slit. It too was blonde.

He had intended to put on his clothes when he'd come into the bedroom, but the sight of her naked beauty stopped him. He stood with his shorts dangling from his band and tried to remember again how it had been with her. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't think; nothing happened in his mind. But something was happening in his body; his cock was getting hard.

The jangle of the alarm on the small table beside the bed startled him. He reached quickly for it but it was too late. The girl rolled over and pushed herself upright. Her breasts got even larger when they swayed outward from her body with their full weight.

"Good morning," she said, balling her hands into fists and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Were you leaving?"

Barry looked at the shorts in his hand and quickly dropped them. "Uh… I was."

The girl propped both pillows against the headboard and leaned back against them. "Must you?"

He shot a quick glance at the dock. "Well, I've got a goddamn job interview but … it's not until noon."

"Good," she said, and smiled as she passed her hands across her breasts and squeezed them into two huge cones. "You were pretty drunk last night."

"Was I too drunk?"

"Oh no… not too drunk," she said, and spread her legs. It was then that he saw the seepage of clear fluid from her cunt. It was unmistakably him.

Barry smiled and lightly fisted his cock. He now knew that it had been good with her. If only he could remember it. "As a matter of fact the whole evening is kind of a blank. Can you fill it in for me?"

"Sure," she replied, and lightly pushed her index finger up inside her pussy.

"After."

He felt stupid. He wanted to fuck her like crazy but he didn't even know her name. Then he saw her take her finger out of her cunt and suck the mixture of their juices from it and it didn't make any difference if he knew her name or not.

He moved into the bed beside her. He reached out and cupped the fullness of her huge tit with his hand. The nipple rose at once and tickled his palm with lust and heat.

She arched her back and twined her arms around his neck to draw his face close to hers. "After all," she murmured. "If you don't even remember last night I think I'd better give you a refresher course."

Their lips met; her tongue slipped between his and into his mouth. He touched it with his own tongue and moved his other hand to cup her other breast. She twisted her shoulders from side to side to rub her big firm breasts against his hands. He squeezed some more and felt the tension from her tits flow down to harden his throbbing prick.

She moaned directly into his mouth, then moved her lips to his ear. "Don't waste time," she whispered. "I've got a hell of a short fuse."

"What do you want… how?" he growled.

"I want fucked," she said. "I don't care how or where… just fuck me."

He let one of his hands drop from her breast and it glided down over her belly to the juncture of her hot thighs. His fingers found the soft, pulpy lips of her pussy and made her whole body jump against him. Her breasts seemed to burn into his chest as he gently inserted two fingers up her cuntal channel.

"Ohhh, yes… do something for my pussy… feed it your bad cock, lover. Now, do it now!"

She quivered to his probing touch and locked her thighs tightly about his wrist to keep his pleasure-giving fingers inserted in her steaming cunt. Her mouth was slack and wet against his face as she moved her head so her tongue could probe into his ear.

Barry forgot all about the strangeness of the situation. He forgot all about anything but the sheer perfection of her breasts, her thighs, and the hot, liquid warmth of her cunt over his fingers. He knew only that she was seething and alive and naked in his arms.