Futa HuCow Coffee Collection

by Reed James

  “I bet you get to enjoy it straight from the source,” the blonde said, her blue eyes staring down at my cleavage.

  “Mmm, it's some of my favorite cream,” Ashley said. “Though Harmony is full of all sorts of tasty treats.”

  My cheeks burned. Ashley was such a forward girl. She could make a corpse blush. After a week of working at the Creamy Udders and dating Ashley, she still caused crimson to spread across my face. And I enjoyed it. Her flirting made me feel so pretty, so wonderful. I could listen to her all day.

  Unlike the other woman I interacted with at the store: Mrs. Owens. Luckily, the married MILF, one of the owners, wasn't in today.

  “Lucky girl,” the blonde sighed as she opened up her purse and pulled out her red wallet. She unclasped it and produced a blue credit card. She handed it over.

  I rang her up. The all natural milk costed quite a bit extra.

  For the first time in the last year since I started spontaneously lactating—doctors called it galactorrhea—I wasn't pissed about it. At the Creamy Udders, I found out that people appreciated a futa who could lactate. That it wasn't weird that my tits had breast milk the way a woman could. Plus, it was so hot being milked in front of people.

  It kept me hard all the time. But I had Ashley to help take care of that. She'd get a wet pussy, I'd get a hard dick, and then we'd love each other. We closed the coffee house together. It gave us some time to do naughty things in the store.

  Ashley already busied herself making the drink as I waited for the credit card to go through. It took forever with the new chip readers. I waited and waited and waited. Then the credit card machine beeped, such an annoying sound. I ripped out her hard and handed it over with her receipt.

  “Har- Mon- Ny-,” Ashley called in a sing-song voice, exaggerating the syllables of my name. “I'm ready for your milk.”

  “So am I,” the blonde moaned, squirming as she watched us.

  I winked at her and pulled down my blouse. My breasts spilled out. My pink nipples thrust out before me. Already, white drops beaded on them, my milk eager to drip into the drink. My dick throbbed in my panties, my juices already flowing, soaking into the dainty fabric. It made me feel so sexy, so hot and naughty as the blonde stared at me with her hungry eyes.

  I admired her own nice breasts.

  Ashley grasped my right breast. The steam rising from the cappuccino shots wafted up and around my nipple. It tickled me. I shivered then groaned as her hand squeezed my udder, fingers sliding down my large, pillowy tit. My milk squirted out, several thin, white streams firing from my pink nub. It splashed into the dark cappuccino, blossoming into milky clouds that diffused into a rich brown.

  “Oh, yes,” the blonde groaned, rubbing her thighs together. “You are such a lucky girl.”

  “I am,” Ashley said and milked me again.

  I let out a whimpering sound, the pleasure shooting down to my futa-cock and pussy. I squirmed my hips, my short, green skirt swaying about my upper thighs. Ashley's hand worked as she milked my udder. I loved being a human cow, providing my creamy treat for people to enjoy.

  Especially busty blondes.

  “You are just staring at her tits,” Ashley whispered in my ear. “Other girls would be jealous. But I know you love my tits.”

  My cheek warmed even more as my nipple throbbed and squirted. My milk splashed into the metal mixing cup, running down the side to the cappuccino. Ashley licked my earlobe as she squeezed my udder again and again.

  The watching woman shifted her hips. She licked her lips and let out another moan. Her blue eyes were so wide. She sucked in deep breaths, those big tits rising and falling in her chest. That sexy feeling swelled in my crotch, my juicy panties hugging my hard cock.

  The doors opened. Mrs. Owens swept in wearing a tight, red dress that attracted my eyes. The MILFs sleek body moved with predatory grace. Her round breasts jiggled in her low-cut top, the bodice square-cut to show off a lot of her flesh. Her black hair fell about her face in a silky delight, cut short into a dominating style.

  She exuded command.

  I swallowed, my eyes locked on her as she strutted across the cafe towards the employee only door. She didn't look at me, and yet I knew she expected me to stare. That she would somehow know if I didn't worship her with my eyes.

  Guilt clawed at my stomach. I hated Mrs. Owens. Her futa-wife, Cassandra, was so friendly, so nice and caring. She'd offered me a job, and the only way I could keep it was to be Mrs. Owens futa-slut. To let the MILF use my body, to please hers. I hated cheating on Ashley with the older woman. I loved my job, loved my relationship with Ashley. To keep one, I risked losing the other. There was only so long I could get away with servicing the MILF before my girlfriend found out.

  I hardly felt Ashley milking my udders for the customer. Ashley squeezed one last time as Mrs. Owens reached the door and vanished from side. My stomach churned so badly. I licked my lips, trembling in dread.

  Mrs. Owens didn't come in every day. Probably had other young futas she fucked behind her futa-wife's back.

  “There you are,” Ashley said, pulling away from me. “And don't forget to put your tits away, cutie. You'll make our customer melt through her panties if you keep them out.”

  “They are fantastic tits, aren't they?” the blonde woman said, her voice so husky. “Just the best breasts I've seen on a futa. So big.”

  “I know,” Ashley said as she mixed the latte, whooshing and hissing sounds erupting behind me. “I love them.”

  My stomach almost turned inside out. I wanted to throw up. Mrs. Owens would find an excuse for me to go back and service her. There was no getting away from it. I would have to. How much longer could I hide this from Ashley?

  “Here you are,” Ashley said, pressing up against me as she handed over her drink. “And your tits are still out, cutie.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. I swallowed, my mouth so dry. My dick throbbed. Despite my guilt, a part of me wanted to please the older woman. To kneel before her and submit to her kinky desires. More juices flowed from my pussy, soaking my panties.

  I pulled up my blouse and covered my tits as Ashley handed over the drink. The woman took a sip of it and let out an orgasmic sigh of enjoyment. Then she turned and sauntered out. I hardly noticed her wiggle in her tight jeans.

  “Wow, you are just out of it, cutie,” Ashley said. “You okay? You weren't even ogling her ass as she walked out. And it was such a nice ass.”

  “Sorry,” I said as her hand slipped up beneath my skirt and fondled my ass.

  “I know, Mrs. Owens makes you so nervous.” Ashley gave my rump a hard squeeze. “She's such a domineering bitch, isn't she?”

  “Definitely,” I said.

  “Well, you don't have to worry...” Her words trailed off at the sound of approaching heels. She broke away from me, grabbed a rag, and started wiping down the counter like we hadn't been talking at all.

  Mrs. Owens strode into the kitchen. Her critical, hazel eyes swept across the room, her lips pursing together. She strutted towards the pair of us, her hips swaying in her tight dress, her breasts jiggling and bouncing in her top.

  “How are sales, Ashley?”

  “Steady,” the redhead answered. “Little better than yesterday.”

  Mrs. Owens nodded. She peered at the sink. “Ashley, you're letting the dishes pile up.”

  “We just had a rush,” she answered. “We're getting on it.”

  Mrs. Owens's eyes flicked over to me. My pussy clenched as I felt like a mouse in the shadow of a hawk. A sexy, gorgeous hawk that wanted me to feast on her. “I need Harmony's help with a special project. Get the dishes cleaned, Ashley.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Owens,” Ashley said, doing a great job hiding her loathing of the woman. But I knew the truth. She'd complained about the MILF enough while resting her head on my breasts.

  “Come along,” the MILF said, leaving off her usual “futa-slut.” But I heard it ringing through my mind, an echo of all the other times she
'd said it.

  My dick throbbed, my cheeks burning. I wanted to hang my head in shame. This was so wrong. I had a girlfriend. I had to explain this to Mrs. Owens. Surely she could find another futa to be her lover. Why did she have to choose me?

  I trailed after her, leaving Ashley to do the dishes. Mrs. Owens led me out of the kitchen and down the crowded hallway. We passed the storeroom where she'd pegged me with a vibrator, and the bathroom where she made me eat her pussy for a half hour. Then we entered her office where she'd rubbed my cock to an orgasm with her foot during my job interview, her oblivious futa-wife sitting beside her.

  The moment the doors closed, she whirled around and perched on the edge of her desk, her round breasts swelling her top. She grabbed her tight, sheath skirt, pulling up the stretchy material up her thighs. Inch-by-inch, she revealed more and more of her flesh.

  “Fall to your knees, futa-slave,” she purred, her skirt riding up to reveal her trimmed, black bush dripping with her juices, “and feast on my cunt.”

  “Mrs. Owens,” I said, squirming. I couldn't keep doing this. “We have to stop.”

  “Excuse me?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. Her hazel eyes bored down on me.

  I swallowed, a bead of sweat forming on my forehead. I had to be strong. I couldn't let myself be weak. “I... I have a girlfriend. I can't keep cheating on her.”

  “And I have a futa-wife,” she said. “How does that help my pussy to get licked?”

  “It's wrong... What we're doing.”

  She marched towards me, her skirt clinging bunched to her hips. She grabbed my hand and yanked it between her thighs. I felt her heat bleeding through her bush. Her juices stained my palm. I felt her clit, hard, throbbing.

  “You are going to worship my cunt, futa-slut,” she hissed, her left hand shoving down my bodice and spilling out my breasts, “or you're going to need a new job. And good luck finding another when I fire you for sexual misconduct. I will tell every prospective employer how you grabbed my pussy.”

  She seized my right tit in her left hand and squeezed. My nipple throbbed. Milk squirted from my nub and splashed the top slopes her breasts. Milky rivulets ran down into her cleavage. She pressed my hand tighter into her pussy.

  “So what will it be, HuCow-whore?” She squeezed again, milking my udder, her fingernails biting into my sensitive slit. “Licking my cunt and pleasing me, or spending the rest of your life branded as a sexual deviant.”

  “I...”

  I swallowed. I couldn't lose this job. And if Ashley found out... She'd dump me. And she would find out. I believed Mrs. Owens threat. The bitch would do that to me. But why did my futa-dick have to be so hard? Why did it have to make me ache and throb so badly. I squirmed my hips, my pussy leaking juices as my body grew hotter and hotter.

  My fingers curled, probing into her pussy's depths. Her tight, married cunt squeezed down on my digits. She shuddered, her smiles spreading wide into a vicious, triumphant smile I could see her victory gleaming in her eyes, how she savored my surrender.

  “That's it, you nasty futa-slave,” she groaned as my digits pumped in and out of her depths. “You're going to worship me every day. When I want to cum, you will give me the satisfaction I crave. You! Are! Mine!”

  “Yes, Mrs. Owen,” I whimpered, thrusting my fingers faster and faster in and out of her cunt.

  Then I fell to her knees. She gave me an order. My stomach churned worse. Poor Ashley... She had no idea. She was as oblivious as Mrs. Owens's futa-wife. I leaned my head in, inhaling the woman's tart musk.

  She pulled away from me before my mouth reached her bush. My fingers slid out of her pussy. I blinked in confusion as she walked to her desk, moving around it. Juices ran down my digits and dripped down the back of my hand as confusion buffeted my thoughts. I shook my head, struggling to understand what had gone wrong.

  She opened her desk drawer. “You need to learn your lesson,” she said as she pulled something out of her desk. “You've been defiant, and I can't abide that. So you will have to earn my forgiveness.”

  “Earn?” I asked.

  She pulled out a sex toy I didn't recognize, conical, made of purple rubber and connected to a knob with a purple, glass gem on it by a thin stem. It had the vague shape of a Christmas tree. I stared at the thickening cone. Did she want to shove that in my pussy?

  “On your hands and knees, futa-slut,” she ordered. “Face that ass to me and pull down those panties right now.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Owens,” I said, trembling, my futa-dick throbbing and twitching in my panties.

  I knelt like a dog before her, turning around so I faced the door, my ass towards her desk. I flipped up the short skirt of my dirndl, my heavy tits swaying in my blouse. I wiggled my rump at her as I reached behind me and pulled down my panties.

  My dick throbbed in relief as my panties pulled away, sliding down my thighs. Air wafted around my pussy. I could feel my silky, blonde curls ruffling in the gusts from the air-conditioner blowing from above. A trickle of juices ran down my futa-cock, inching towards my cock's tip.

  “You object, and yet you're so wet and hard for this, futa-slut,” purred my boss.

  “Because I like... my girlfriend.” I almost blurted out Ashley, but I had a feeling Mrs. Owens would make Ashley's life miserable if she knew we were dating. “I don't want to betray her.”

  “Even though I'm hotter than her?” she asked, moving behind me. “I am hotter than her, right?”

  I hesitated. Mrs. Owens was a gorgeous, mature woman with a sexy body and round breasts, but Ashley... Ashley had big, soft, lactating boobies. They were so much fun to play with. She had her bright-red hair and her mischievous, green eyes.

  And she didn't make me feel like a piece of dirt, an object she just used.

  “It's hard to compare a tulip to a rose,” I said, thinking quickly.

  “So it's a no then,” she hissed. “If it was a yes, you wouldn't use that bit of poetry.”

  “She's my girlfriend,” I protested.

  Instead of answering, she jammed the conical toy into my pussy. I shuddered as it spread my sheath wider and wider until it popped in, her fingers wrapped around the base. She yanked it back out and fucked in again and again, working it with what felt like furious passion.

  I whimpered, my pussy sheath stimulated, my labia throbbing as they spread open wide to swallow the thick base. I squirmed, my futa-dick swaying between my thighs. I sucked in a deep breath, my body trembling, my breasts swaying in my blouse.

  “I don't even know why I'm lubing this with your nasty juices,” she snarled as she ripped the toy out of my cunt.

  “Lubing?” I whimpered, my body buzzing from the fast plunges, my pussy craving being filled by the toy. “Why would you need—

  “Holy shit!”

  She jammed the conical sex toy into my asshole. With its blunted point and soaked in my pussy juices, my sphincter didn't stand a chance against it. The tight ring spread wider and wider, swallowing the toy. Heat burned in my bowels as the toy entered me, stuffing up my backdoor. I whimpered, my toes curling in my flats. My blonde hair swayed before my face as sweat broke out across my forehead.

  I'd never taken anything in my asshole before. I groaned through clenched teeth at the sudden intrusion. The toy—a butt plug, I realized—spread my bowels so wide. My sphincter swallowed the base, the jeweled knob nestled between my butt-cheeks.

  “Oh, my fucking goddess!” I whimpered, squirming, feeling that toy jammed so deep into me.

  “Mmm, yes, you look so pretty with that butt plug in you,” she purred. “Purple really goes with your eyes. And I bought a matching dildo to fuck you with.”

  “What?” I groaned. “But I'm already stuffed so tight.”

  “This is your punishment, HuCow-whore!”

  I whimpered, my futa-dick throbbing as my asshole slowly relaxed to the intrusion in my bowels. I couldn't believe it. It felt... nice in me. But... I felt so stuffed full with it in me, my pussy feeling
so tight. How could I take a dildo in me, too?

  I threw a look over my shoulder, my breath sucking in fast. My nipples tingled against my blouse as I witnessed the monster dildo she produced. It was bigger than my own futa-dick, and I had a large one. She worked the harness up her thighs, her tits bouncing in her blouse. She stroked it when it was in place, thrusting over a foot from her crotch. And it was so thick.

  I whimpered.

  “Mmm, I am going to tear up your futa-pussy with this,” she said. Such joy in her words. It was obvious that she would savor what she was about to do to me. That she would love plunging into my cunt as hard as she could.

  “Oh, yes, you're going to squeal on my toy and remember to never object. Right, futa-slave?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Owens,” I moaned.

  I stared at the door instead of looking back. I couldn't watch that monster come closer and closer to my pussy. My heart pounded beneath my swaying breasts. Her heels clicked as she walked around her desk. Then I felt her looming over me, her shadow falling down on me. My asshole clenched down on the toy in my bowels, molding around the conical girth.

  Then she fell to her knees behind me. Her toy smacked my rump. I shivered at the feel of it. She spanked my butt again, the sound echoing through the room. I groaned again and she let out a throaty laugh.

  Yes, she loved this.

  “You're so eager for my big dick to tear up that futa-pussy, aren't you, HuCow-whore?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Owens,” I lied, pussy juices flooding down my thighs and dribbling down my girl-dick.

  She brought the thick tip to my pussy lips, pressing it against my labia. “Then beg. Beg for me to fuck you, to tear up your cunt with my big toy!”

  “P-Please, Mrs. Owens, fuck my c-cunt with your big t-toy!”

  “Ooh, yes, you're so afraid. You know you'll remember this always. Your girlfriend doesn't peg your cunt, does she? She doesn't give you what I do!”

  Before I could answer, she thrust.

  My eyes bulged.