Futa HuCow Coffee Collection

by Reed James

  Futa HuCow Coffee Collection

  (Three Tales of the World of Futas)

  by

  Reed James

  Copyright © 2018 by Reed James

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Published in the United States of America, 2018

  All characters depicted in this work of fiction are over the age of eighteen (18).

  Cover Photo © dashek | Nobilior | Depositphotos.com

  Logo © Anton Brand | Dreamstime.com

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  Table of Contents

  Futa HuCow Coffee Collection

  Naughty Excerpt from “Futa HuCow Coffee Collection”

  Stories of the The World of Futas

  Futa HuCow & the Married MILF

  Futa HuCow & the Married MILF

  Futa HuCow's Friendly Service

  Futa HuCow's Friendly Service

  Double HuCow Creamy Delight

  Double HuCow Creamy Delight

  Naughty Excerpt from “Futa HuCow Coffee Collection”

  “Let's see those tits, my little futa-slut,” she purred, grabbing my ponytail. “You have to earn this job.”

  “Y-Yes, Mrs. Owens,” I gasped, throwing a look over my shoulder. “But your futa-wife.” I had to object. I had to remind her. I glanced at her left hand, her wedding ring glinting there. “Wh-what about your wife?”

  “What about her?” She arched an eyebrow. “She's got her day job. She leaves me all alone to run the coffee shop. All alone with you. You'll be here, working so close with me. Now let me see those udders, HuCow-slut! I want to see a futa's big, lactating tits!”

  “Yes, Mrs. Owens,” I gasped, hastening to obey. I pulled up my blouse, revealing my white bra, the cups almost soaked with my milk. The sweet scent filled my nose, reminding me of Ashley's cream.

  It was a nursing bra—it had been so embarrassing shopping in the woman's section for it—and I pulled open the two flaps to reveal my fat, pink nipples. White smeared across them both. I licked my lips and cup them.

  “I want to see those beautiful tits,” hissed Mrs. Owens, jerking on my ponytail. “Not just your nipples.”

  “Sorry!” I flushed. This woman... She had such a commanding presence about her. I couldn't help but leap to obey her.

  She let go of my ponytail long enough for me to pop off my blouse and bra. Then she seized it again as she stared at my heavy breasts. They'd swelled two cup sizes when I started lactating last year. Big and ripe, my areolas so large now. I shivered as she hauled me up to my feet, wincing at the pain even as it made my pussy clench and my dick throb.

  She pushed me down onto the desk, her left hand squeezing my right breast. Her fingers were so warm and slim, yet strong. She groped me, making my nipple throb. Electricity ran down my body to my pussy. My snatch grew hotter, my panties a sodden mess of pussy cream and futa-cum.

  She released my ponytail to clutch my other breast as she leaned over. She squeezed my tits just right; milk squirted from my nipples. The streams of white splashed across her face. I swallowed at the sight of my cream bathing her features, running in pearly rivulets down her cheeks. Her tongue swept out, brushing the liquid.

  “Mmm, you are sweet, futa-slut,” she purred before nuzzling her tits in between my breasts. She pressed my mounds against her cheeks, breathing in deeply. “Such lush, big tits. I love young futas with huge boobs.”

  I didn't know what to say. I just trembled and let her enjoy my breasts, biting my lower lip.

  She kissed and sucked at my inner slopes, her head twisting back and forth to enjoy both my boobs. Her lips climbed higher, smooching her way up my breasts. Then she licked me, too, her head shaking from side-to-side, her black hair caressing my nipples with silk.

  Her hands squeezed my tits, pressing them together, bringing my nipples as close by as possible. She let out a ravenous moan and attacked my right nub. Her married lips wrapped about my nub, suckling as hard as possible.

  I gasped, nursing my first ever woman. It felt so different from the breast pump. Not the mechanical suction, that steady, pulsing rhythm. This was a warm, wet, human mouth. A hot MILF's mouth. She sucked hard and then fast, varying the speed at which she nursed me.

  “Mrs. Owens,” I whimpered as my milk squirted into her hungry mouth. Her tongue flicked my nipple between sucks.

  She just moaned her delight.

  Her cheeks hollowed as she suckled, the married woman enjoying herself. The pleasure shot down to my dick. It ached in my soaked panties. I sucked in deep breaths as my nipple throbbed every time she nursed.

  It felt so good. So amazing.

  To find out what happens next, read on!

  Stories of the The World of Futas

  Futa HuCow Coffee 1: Futa HuCow & the Married MILF

  Futa HuCow Coffee 2: Futa HuCow's Friendly Service

  Futa's Naughty Student 1: Coed's Naughty Teasing

  Futa's Naughty Student 2: Futa-Teacher's Naughty Lecture

  Futa's Naughty Student 3: Futa's Gloryhole Surprise

  Futa Wife's Dominating Boss 1: Posing for the Futa Billionaire

  Futa Wife's Dominating Boss 2: Futa's Cuckolding Hot Wife

  Futa Wife's Dominating Boss 3: Futa Boss' Fertile Seed

  Futa HuCow Mansion 1: HuCow Maid's Interview

  Futa HuCow Mansion 2: HuCow Maid Spanked

  Futa HuCow Mansion 3: HuCow's Maid Submission

  Futa Coed's Domination 1: Futa's Naughty Domination

  Futa Coed's Domination 2: Futa's Submissive Service

  Futa's Coed Domination 3: Futa's Naughty Mistress

  Futa HuCow & the Married MILF

  Futa HuCow Coffee 1

  (A Tale of the World of Futas)

  by

  Reed James

  Futa HuCow & the Married MILF

  “Harmony, we need to talk,” my boss said. “My office, now.”

  “Yes, Ms. Ritter,” I said, sighing, staring down at the front of my green polo shirt, two wet spots spreading across the tips of my breasts. I started leaking again.

  I followed my boss through the store, weaving through the electronic section. I smoothed my khaki pants, my stomach twisting. I hated these lactating tits. It wasn't fair. I was a futa. I didn't get pregnant. Women did. So why did my breasts have to be full of milk?

  They said it was all the hormones they put into cows to get them to produce so much milk. It affected people. Mostly women. Many were lactating without ever becoming pregnant. My doctor called it galactorrhea—spontaneous lactation. In 1% of cases, it happened to futas. Our breasts produced milk, too. And they would become so full. I had to pump myself three times a day, and it didn't feel like enough. At any moment, I could start leaking.

  Especially if I grew horny.

  My futa-dick was still hard from the sight of the MILF in her tight sweater that molded to her large tits, and her jeans hugging her rump. She'd bent over right before me and my cock hardened, my pussy grew wet, and my nipples lactated. Just in time for my boss to catch me.
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  A tingle raced across my skin followed by a cold sweat. My dick deflated in my panties. I licked my lips. I knew this would be bad. I sucked in deep breaths, trying to control my emotions, fighting with the waves of panic that told me to bolt. To flee. To get away as fast as possible.

  I needed this job.

  Even if it sucked and paid minimum wage. I needed it. I had bills to pay. My college loans for my useless degree weighed me down with debt that threatened to drown me. My fists clenched and relaxed as we came closer and closer to Ms. Ritter's office.

  She walked around her desk in her small, cluttered office when we entered. She sat down, looking up at me with her serious, brown eyes, her brown hair falling in sleek waves about a pinched and pruny face.

  “We talked about this, Harmony,” she said. “Your uniform has to be neat. We can't have the customers seeing your... nipples.”

  “My nipples?” I frowned, staring down at my polo shirt. “You can't see them. Even wet.”

  “But the wet patches attract the eye. People know what it means.”

  “Galactorrhea is not something I can help,” I protested.

  “Yes, well, but it's becoming associated with such... unsavory professions. And you're a futa. It's doubly weird to see it on you.”

  My cheeks burned. “I pump as often as I can. This isn't my fault. I wear a thick bra, but...”

  “But you were staring at that woman's ass, ogling her, and lost all control,” Ms. Ritter said. “I've given you three warnings about this before.”

  My stomach plunged out of my body, leaving me feeling dizzy. “B-But.”

  “You're fired,” she said. “I'm sorry, but I can't have you working in that condition. It's obscene. You can pick up your last paycheck in two days. Please turn in your uniform then.” She hesitated. “I won't fight unemployment insurance.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, a strange lethargy sinking on me, my thoughts become heavy, muddled. “I... I...” I didn't know what to say. A shudder ran through my body. Emotion burned in my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks.

  I didn't want to cry in front of the futa-bitch who just fired me.

  I fled her office. I stumbled down the hallway to the employee lounge. To my locker. I pulled my clothes out of it, my body shaking worse and worse. I felt my coworkers on break staring at me. I couldn't face them. I darted for the restroom, slamming the door behind me.

  My large breasts rose and fell in my green polo shirt. I stared into the mirror, my blue eyes swimming with tears. I shook my head, my blonde hair pulled back into a serviceable ponytail. My heart raced. Panic surged through me. Now what would I do? Who would hire a lactating futa?

  My stomach writhed, a queasy, greasy feeling settling in. I swallowed, bile tickling the back of my throat as I peeled off my polo shirt. My white bra constrained my huge tits. They swayed and jiggled in it, my nipples poking at the fabric, centered in the wet patches. My breasts ached, swollen. I needed to pump.

  Didn't have the heart to do it.

  I pulled on my pink blouse. It settled over my breasts, hugging them. Already, two dark spots appeared on it. My cheeks burned, a pink flush creeping across them in the reflection. I was soaking through it, too. I sighed and grabbed my purse.

  I walked out of my work in a daze, leaving behind the electronic store. I stepped out onto the downtown street. The world bustled around me, flowing back and forth, uncaring that I just lost the job I needed to pay my bills.

  I was so fucked.

  I stumbled without seeing anything. My mind blank. I felt like a robot, a part of me remotely aware of the world around me while the rest of my thoughts circled around the bills I had to pay. They were a black hole, drawing me closer and closer to destruction. I didn't know how long I walked or even where I was walking. I just stumbled down sidewalks, crossing some streets, turning at other intersections. No pattern. No destination.

  A loud car honking shocked me out of my daze. I blinked and looked around. A wave of disorientation washed over me. I didn't recognize the street. A new type of panic fluttered through me, battering my heart. I shivered, my head snapping around, looking for something familiar, trying to figure out where I'd wandered to in the city.

  “Creamy Udders Coffee House” caught my eye across the street, a little independent coffee shop. The sign had a cute girl in a dirndl, that Bavarian-style dress you see at Oktoberfest, painted above it. She had large breasts that were almost spilling out of her low-cut, white blouse, her green bodice squeezing her tits up into a massive pile of bountiful flesh. My cheeks flushed as I realized what the “creamy” meant.

  Breast milk.

  It was a HuCow coffee house. With lactating women becoming more and more common, all manner of new opportunities were available for women to milk their tits and sell the cream. New types of porn were growing and women doing all sort of quasi-sex work. They found jobs at fetish restaurants and cafes, or doing webcam shows where they milk themselves then sell it to their subscribers. I heard of a billionaire who employed maids who lactated at her own private mansion.

  I stared at the coffee shop's mascot in the German dirndl. My dick grew so painfully hard. I felt so shitty. My life had come crashing down and now I was horny. Panic fluttered at the edges of my awareness, nibbling at my thoughts, wanting to drive me into despair. I shouldn't go across the street.

  I didn't have the money to waste on a coffee.

  But it would be so relaxing and... And that sign. I was still a young futa, barely graduated from college. My girl-cock ached in my panties. My pussy grew wetter and wetter. Juices leaked out of me and...

  My nipples grew wet. I lactated again.

  I drifted across the street when the light changed. I swallowed, my hands clenching and relaxing. I reached the door, grabbed the handle. I shouldn't waste my money on this. I had have to pinch every penny going forward.

  I pulled the door open, drawn inside.

  It was mid-afternoon, most people at work, so it was nearly empty in here. One futa sat at a table, sipping a coffee, while typing at a laptop, pounding out that novel that people always pretended to write in cafes.

  I swallowed as my eyes fell on the barista. She wore a green dirndl like the mascot, the laced-up bodice pushing up her large tits cradled in her low-cut blouse, forming a lovely pile of cleavage. Her tits looked on the verge of spilling out, her nipples poking against the fabric. Fiery hair fell down around her face. Her green eyes landed on me. A mischievous smile grew on her lips as she leaned on the counter, her tits almost dangling before her, swaying, beckoning.

  My girl-dick throbbed hard. My pussy clenched.

  “Hello,” she purred. “Welcome to the Creamy Udders.”

  “Hi,” I said, drawn across the cafe to her. My cheeks burned. Those tits were just as big as mine, huge and soft. They looked so pillowy. My hands clenched, imagining what they would feel like. I hadn't been with a woman in weeks. Many were put off by a lactating futa.

  It just wasn't natural. Women had children and breast milk, not futas. Our tits were just for decoration.

  “So, what would you like, cutie?” she asked then ran her tongue across her plump lips.

  A flush washed out of my pussy. I fought the urge to groan. I struggled not to stare at those tits swaying before me. “Um... A... Coffee.”

  “Just a coffee?” she asked, her voice liquid passion. “Nothing else, cutie?”

  “Just a coffee,” I said. “I... I just lost my job. I don't have...”

  “Oh, I'm so sorry, cutie.” She straightened up and placed her hand over mine. She gave me a squeeze. “That sucks. Let me whip you up something to perk you up. It'll be okay. You'll see. Losing a job is the world's way of sending you a better one.”

  “Thanks,” I said, wishing I could believe such a new age philosophy. The world didn't give a crap about a lactating futa.

  She spun around, her green skirt flaring. It was short, hardly falling down past her ass, and definitely not the traditiona
l form of the dirndl. Her legs were lithe and lovely. I licked my lips, my futa-dick throbbing in my panties. My nipples ached, my breasts so sore. So in need of being drain. I reached down, adjusting myself as she busied herself at the coffee pot.

  “Now I know you don't want your coffee black,” she said, turning around. “But would you like to milk me yourself?”

  “M-Milk?”

  She brought my cup of coffee, steaming, standing tall in its white container. She set it before me on the counter, the surface black and rich. Then she produced her right breast out or her blouse. It was large and ripe, topped by a fat, dusky-pink nipple beading with a white drop. She cupped her breast, arching her fiery eyebrows.

  “Milk,” she said. “I can do it. Or you can add just that right amount of breast milk for your own taste.”

  My hands flexed. My pussy almost spasmed. My dick strained against my panties, wanting to burst out of them and my pants. Heat washed through me, a mighty billow, smoke rising from a blazing inferno burning in my cunt.

  “Y-you mean I can...” I swallowed, my mouth suddenly so dry as I stared at that large breast. How long had it been since I touched a woman's breast? A month? Two? I'd been working so hard to pay down my student loans.

  “Normally, it's extra,” she said. “But you're having such a bad day, cutie. You deserve a nice pick-me-up, don't you?”

  “I guess,” I said. I looked around. Still only one other customer in the cafe. “And this is... okay?”

  “It's not prostitution,” she said. “It's just touching my breast. To milk me. It's a service we provide. All natural, perfectly healthy, human breast milk. How can you say no to that?”

  I couldn't. I really, really couldn't.

  My right hand grasped her breast. She let out a little whimper of delight as I squeezed her pillowy mound. She felt so warm in my hand. Such a delicious treat. My dick twitched in my panties. My hips rubbed from side to side, my juicy pussy aching to be touched. My fingers sank into her flesh as I squeezed her.