The Long Pull

Unlike those places, where someone might be looking up at the ceiling, those with The Look were always looking directly at the barista's crotches, disbelieving what they were seeing. Their fascination was closer to watching robotic arms effortlessly make a car out of strips of aluminum. Maybe they'd heard of futa, maybe they'd even met some or were friends with a few, but surely never one with their lower half almost completely disrobed, and so deeply engorged, with a bead of clear precum sitting on the tip like a crystal ball on a huge plinth.

Even on their second visit, a patron would either look, not look, or glance. Only those visiting The Futa Brew for the first time would stare with such unbroken goggle-eyed fascination, standing out of line, unsure if what they were seeing was real.

Without a word, Melanie got Zelda's attention and gestured at the man with nothing more than a glance. Zelda recognized The Look immediately. She went to the back counter, where the old iPod that controlled the music was stationed, and changed the song with a few taps.

The music cut out briefly, and the speakers started playing The Look by Roxette. Zelda had set the filename of the MP3 to begin with a huge series of A's, so it would sort to the top of any playlist, and would be easy to find for just this occasion. It was an in-joke among employees, known enough to the staff that even Patti set down her work for a moment to see who the new customer was from her second-story window overlooking the cafe.

Zelda zipped out from behind the counter and marched up to the man, stepping in time with the percussion of the Swedish pop rock hit. The way her cock wobbled as she walked finally caused the man to look away.

"Hi!" Zelda smiled wide. "Welcome to The Futa Brew! Is this your first time here?"

The man's head looked around, then back to the huge cock of this petite Asian woman, as big as her arm. Possibly bigger. "I just came in looking for a bathroom." He looked about fruitlessly.

"There over there if you need them." Zelda pointed behind the man, to the hall that lead to the entrances to the cafe's three lavatories: men's, women's and futa, naturally. "What's your name?"

"Thomas." The man said.

"Hello, Thomas. I'm Zelda." She pointed to her nametag, knowing he hadn't and wouldn't look at it. "Welcome to the Futa Brew! I'm here to answer any questions you have. To answer your first question... yes, it's real."

Thomas stared at her, eyes darting between eye contact and staring goggle-eyed at her unclothed erection. She continued. "Well, so are these..." She held her petite breasts in her hands for a moment. "But they're not nearly as impressive as... well, you can see."

Thomas swallowed.

Zelda pulled out a pink plastic school ruler with the logo for the Futa Brew on it. To Thomas, it looked like she pulled it out of Hammerspace. "Go ahead." She handed the ruler to him with both hands, bowing as she did.

He took the ruler, and Zelda stood up straight again. Thomas' trembling hand brought the ruler vertically to one side of Zelda's cock. He leaned in to read the raised numbers. The tip was right at the eleven.

"Jesus." Thomas said softly, stepping back. He held the ruler out to Zelda.

"Oh, you can keep that." Zelda said. "Unless it bothers you that it touched me, but... that never seems to be the case."

Thomas put the ruler in his pocket.

"So!" Zelda continued, still brimming with enthusiasm. "Do you like coffee?"

"I drink coffee, but I don't really like it." Thomas said. "I just need the caffeine to stay alert."

"I know what you mean." Zelda said. "I wake up at 4:30 in the morning just to get here. As my dad used to say," Zelda imitated her father's thick Japanese accent. "That so early, it late!" She laughed.

Thomas smiled nervously, not even sure he should be laughing at that.

"Now, I happen to love coffee." Zelda continued. "But like a lot of people, I still can't drink it black. It's just too strong. So what we do at the Futa Brew is take our already excellent coffee and mellow it with the world's best and most natural sweetener."

Thomas blinked. "Agave?"

"Guess again." Zelda smiled.

Eyes finally drifting away from Zelda, Thomas looked behind the counter and watched the assembly line in action. A blonde futa wrote an order on a large paper cup with a pencil. She handed it behind her to a black girl standing in front of a coffee machine. He wasn't sure if she was a futa, too. The black girl handed it to a white brunette to her left. The brunette woman was hidden behind some feature of the counter, too, but she lowered the cup and her other arm started shaking in a way that sure looked like masturbation.

"No way." Thomas said.

"Yes way." Zelda said confidently.

"Is this legal?"

"I've worked here for three years, and we haven't had any trouble at all." Zelda said. "It's not like it's a secret. That's why we have the low counter so you can watch your coffee get made. It's like Subway."

That comparison hadn't jumped to Thomas' mind. The thing he envisioned happening in the back rooms of crummy restaurants where wrathful staff took their frustrations with bad customers out on their food... was happening front and center here. There was a market for coffee mixed with futa come. There was a line to buy this particular coffee.

"That's the first rule of the Futa Brew." Zelda explained. "Watch as much as you want."

"So... are you all..."

"We are all futa." Zelda answered. "And we're all very good at our job. Would you like to try some?"

"I don't think I'd like coffee flavored with jizz, thanks. I'm... straight."

"Now, you don't think it'd be this popular if the only flavor we had was jizz, do you?" A pause. "We're not just your baristas, and we're not just the cream for your coffee, we're also your flavor syrups."

Zelda turned in place, pulling her butt cheeks apart momentarily and revealing the orange-colored flange of the device still stowed in her ass. "These special implants means that each of us will dispense a different flavor! Today, I'm Hazelnut."

"How the hell does that work?" Thomas sneered, confused.

"I don't know EXACTLY how it works, like chemically." Zelda admitted freely. "But we get assigned our implants in the morning, I shove it in my butt, it stimulates my prostate and keeps me hard and ready, and it flavors my ejaculate."

Thomas stared her in the eye for once, instead of in the cock. "That didn't explain anything."

"No, it really didn't." Zelda would have to revise this part of the spiel.

A few seconds of silence between them. The song and the general clamor of the cafe continued.

"You don't believe me." Zelda said. "Take a seat."

He sat on a couch, and Zelda brought a chair across from him. "Do you like Hazelnut?"

"I do." Thomas nodded.

"Great." Zelda put her fingers around her cock and started rubbing. Thomas looked away, suddenly fascinated by the ceiling fans that weren't helping him wick away the nervous sweat he felt growing on his forehead and shoulders.

"You can watch, Thomas." Zelda continued masturbating shamelessly. "Remember the first rule."

He kept his eyes averted.

"The second rule is that we accept requests. You can touch me, or any one of us, so long as you ask permission from the barista first. She might say no, but we're very permissive here." Zelda purred. "Would you like to touch it?"

Thomas didn't look back.

"What if I said I couldn't come without you watching?" Zelda begged. "I've done this so long, if someone's not watching, I just can't climax. Sure, other people are staring at me, but I want it to be you. Will you please look at me?"

Thomas finally looked back. Zelda's hand picked up speed as she stared unblinking at him for about twelve more seconds until she grabbed her empty cup.

At the exact moment of climax, The Look reached its famous two-and-a-half second rest. Zelda groaned and unburdened herself of wave after wave of sticky white come, and all the customer's heads turned to watch.

And all the other baristas jumped in place at the exact moment and slammed their feet down at the moment the music resumed. Zelda couldn't jump, but did stomp one foot.

Zelda had lied when she said she needed to have someone watch her to be able to come. But... that didn't mean she didn't appreciate the attention. Yes, watch me, she thought, head swimming in perverted thoughts. Watch this huge dick fill this cup with sweet spunk and decide to change your order to "whatever he's having." Line me up to make cup after cup of Hazelnut goodness. She could go a thousand times in a row and not run of of come, she thought. I am the endless fountain of come.

The man broke his stare only to see how many seconds had actually gone by. He privately wished he could nut for that long.

Zelda had finally reached the end of her orgasm, releasing a long breath and letting a gentle line of white come crawl down her cock. She pulled the cup away and held it out to Thomas. He looked at the warm brew uncertainly, giving it a sniff.

Almost everyone knows that come has a unique and strong scent. This didn't really smell like come, except for that it was a smell equal in potency. It smelled strongly of hazelnuts, almost like hazelnut perfume.

Zelda kept smiling, pushing the cup closer. Thomas recoiled a bit. Zelda pulled the cup in and took a sip. She moaned and licked her lips.

"I forgot how good the Hazelnut was." Zelda said.

"You're still hard." Thomas said.

"You're still sexy." Zelda pointed.

"You don't have to patronize me." Thomas muttered shyly.

"Of course I do. You're a customer." Zelda stood. "Could you hold this? I'm going to get the rest of the stuff to finish this." She handed the cup back to Thomas and ran back behind the counter.

When Thomas woke this morning, he didn't think he'd be sat in a coffee shop, holding a futa woman's sweet-smelling jism in a plastic cup. The cup felt really warm, much hotter than body temperature. If he'd been handed a coffee this hot, he'd ask for a few ice cubes like a total wimp. He hoped he didn't spill this in his lap...

Thomas looked around, wondering if he was being watched by someone. He sniffed the cup again. It sure smelled nice...

Zelda returned. "Here we go." She had two shots of espresso that she poured into the cup before taking it back. She attached a cover to the cup and rocked it vigorously between both hands, a napkin covering the X-shaped straw vent.

Somehow, Thomas stopped watching Zelda's cock wobble about as she shook the drink, and watched those two small shots of espresso swirl around and darken the white base to a light beige.

Zelda stopped her shaking and sighed. "Believe it or not, that's the most exhausting part of my job." She handed the cup back to him. "Here we go. One Hazelnut latte." She unwrapped the straw and poked it in the lid, keeping a little bit of the paper at the top of the straw.

Thomas looked at it. It did look like a perfectly acceptable latte, though he'd never seen one in a clear plastic container. The truth was that every other customer got their lattes served in opaque paper cups. This clear cup was for iced coffee... or for new customers so they could watch their come spill and fill the cup.

"So... there's no milk in this at all?"

"No milk, no sugar. Just my natural sweetness."

Thomas hesitated. "How much do I owe you?"

"This one's on the house." Zelda said. "If you like it, tell your friends. If you don't, tell them we're a bunch of weird perverts. Well, that part's true whether you like the drink or not."

Thomas still didn't quite have the nerve to take a sip. "Let me try it." Zelda pulled his arm out with both hands and put her lips on the straw. He saw the dark line of coffee advance up the straw, and she filled her mouth with latte.

Zelda swallowed. "Oh, man, that's good." She smacked her lips. "I'm not even pretending."

Thomas felt like was being inched closer and closer to the edge of a diving board, so high up that he couldn't even see if the pool was filled.

"Is it because I used the straw?" Zelda inquired. "I've got another straw here, but..." She jumped up and stole a quick kiss from his lips. "That's way easier."

Thomas covered his mouth with his hand. His cheeks grew red.

Zelda felt a steep drop in her stomach. Maybe that was over the line. "Was that too far?" She asked.

"No, no." Thomas said. "I'm fine. You're just... really sexy."

"Aw." She smiled as if nobody had ever told her that before. "Anyway, I should get back there and help them, but it was nice meeting you, Thomas. I really hope you'll be back, but if you don't like our coffee, don't worry about it. Just throw it away. It won't hurt my feelings. There's plenty more where that came from."

Zelda returned to behind the counter and joined her fellow baristas in trying to handle the line that had grown a bit in her absence.

Thomas walked out of the shop with his latte. Zelda kept his eyes on him as he stood before the large picture window.

"Come on, come on, come on..." Zelda leaned over the counter, quietly encouraging him from a distance.

Thomas looked about, rubbed the back of his neck, took a deep breath, and placed his lips on the straw.

"YES!!" Zelda cheered. All that effort wasn't in vain. She just hoped she'd be behind the counter when Thomas came back for his second trip to the Futa Brew.

-

In the hustle and bustle of working at a coffee shop, time can fly by. Events can be remembered out of order, or remembered on the wrong day, or with the wrong participants. If the stories told from the perspective of this little coffee shop seem jumbled or confusing, they sometimes are to the women who experienced them first-hand.

If they seem like the deranged stories told by some perverts on the Internet, the truth is that the debauchery presented here is just the tip of the iceberg.

-

Melanie and Vanna were at the registers, occasionally swapping out with the others when they had to make coffees of their assigned flavor. Melanie liked to think she was the fastest at the register, as the one with the most experience. She could foresee customer complaints or concerns from a great distance and act to counter them. The jerking off was the longest part of her coffee-making process, despite practicing that for much longer than she'd worked at the Futa Brew.

But in four years of working at the Futa Brew, Melanie had never been faced with this: standing in line, dressed in perfect businesswoman attire, was Stella... a friend from high school.

Melanie felt a panic fill her heart like almost never before. This was like being caught masturbating by your parents, your grandparents, the football team, all while Ed McMahon entered the room with a giant novelty check and camera crew. Stella's nose was buried in her phone, as was typical for her, so she hadn't noticed Melanie yet.

Melanie's degree was in English, but she was still pretty good at math. There were four people in line in front of her. If Melanie finished her customer first, she'd get the first guy in line, Vanna the second, and so on... and she'd have to serve Stella.

Melanie pretended the credit card reader was malfunctioning for just ten seconds to let Vanna slip ahead of her so Vanna would take the next guy in line. Now Stella would go to Vanna. Melanie tried to relax, but at any moment, Stella could turn her head up and see her.

She'd almost rather it be someone she hated from high school. It would be easier to blow her off. Melanie and Stella were friendly, but seldom saw each other outside of school. Until now, she hadn't realized how much she appreciated that all the people who visited the Futa Brew only saw her there.

The other customers flew by in a distracted, worried haze. Melanie raced to keep pace with Vanna, who was no slouch herself, and her masturbation technique was excellent, as Melanie had seen many times before. They finished the last two before Stella at the same moment, both handing the receipts out within a second of each other. Melanie sighed. She would make some excuse to leave the register for just a bit. She was the assistant manager, after all. She always had a stack of crap she had to do somewhere else, even when it was busy.

"Vanna, can you make this Vanilla?" Connie called from near the sink. "That guy's been waiting for it."

"Be right there." Vanna said.

And Vanna turned away from her register without taking a new customer.

Melanie watched Vanna leaving her post as if she was falling down a cliff, disappearing into the fog that hid the rocky gorge below.

She turned back. Stella was there now, right at the counter still looking down, tapping away at her phone.

"Welcome to the Futa Brew." Melanie croaked nervously. "What can I get you?"

"Yeah, can I get-" Stella said before finally looking up. She gasped, eyes widened and smile open wide. "Melanie!"

"Hey." Melanie waved.

"How've you been? It's-"

Stella looked down.

"Whoa!" Stella put her hand over her heart. "Well, there's THAT question finally answered. Wow. How were you not getting laid constantly in high school?"

"I think this is why I WASN'T." Melanie said.

"You're kidding. That thing's huge."

"I'm actually the smallest of everyone who works here."

Stella looked about and saw the other baristas walking around with their hard-ons out. "What IS this place?"

"We make special flavored dairy-free lattes with our... semen." Melanie felt stupid explaining something she did with confidence for forty hours a week. Sometimes, explaining your passion to someone completely outside it would inevitably make you sound like a weirdo.

"Dairy-free lattes?" Stella blinked. "Wow, I haven't had a latte in so long. I guess I'll get one of those."

"Sure. What flavor?" Melanie tapped the screen.

"Do you have caramel?"

Melanie resisted the urge to slam her head into her register screen. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I'm Caramel today."

"Oh, awesome." Stella said. "You can make it while we catch up."

Melanie sighed. She grabbed a clear plastic cup and set it near herself. She leaned on the back counter and started playing with herself.

"So... what do you do these days?" Melanie asked, betting that it wasn't masturbating for a living.

"I'm a literary publicist. Well, I work FOR one." Stella said, watching as Melanie worked her cock with the expression of a camgirl who had long ago burned out her enthusiasm on this form of income.

"That's cool. Do you get to travel?"

"All the time." She said. "But I travel so much, I had to give my cat to my ex-boyfriend. I was just never home!"

"Wow, that sucks." Melanie said, still tugging herself. "I wondered why you stopped posting pictures of her on you Facebook. So what brings you to Seattle?"

"We're doing a book tour for this guy who plays for the Knicks. He's not super famous or anything, but the tour's been going well, and he's a really nice guy."

"That's cool." Melanie kept whacking, looking away.

"You... do this full-time?"

"I do, actually." Melanie looked back.

Stella was gently biting her lower lip, and one hand had began to rub her neck. She could see her shift in place a bit, pinching her thighs together.

She's into this, Melanie thought.

Of course she is. Melanie was sexy and used her huge dong every hour of every workday. Of course she'd like this. That's why there was almost always a line. To get someone to wait in line for coffee... in SEATTLE... they had something special.

"You know..." Melanie said, finding her footing again and gaining speed. "Here at the Futa Brew, we are all at your service. It's customary for us to take requests if you'd like us to do something special, or if you want to touch me... that's fine. All you have to do is ask."