The Long Pull

Of course, describing Zelda as a 'normal woman' was probably not accurate.

"Who's next?" She got the attention of the next man in line.

"Could I get a Hazelnut?"

Zelda almost cheered. "You most certainly can!"

His latte turned out very, very light. But it tasted a lot like hazelnut.

-

Around ten o'clock, the business would slow down enough that all four of them didn't have to be out on the floor nonstop. This was when non-essential duties like sweeping, wiping tables and trash disposal could be taken care of. Normally, whoever was assigned to Coconut or some other less-demanded flavor would be the one to take out the trash. It was easier than fighting over it, and having French Vanilla away from the counter for five minutes wouldn't be wise.

Connie emptied the indoor trash bins into a large wheeled trash barrel, donning latex gloves to keep her hands clean. She tied the bag up from the barrel before walking it outside to the dumpster. Of course, she was only half-dressed and her cock was still hard and throbbing. She could go put her coat on, but she didn't want trash juice on her coat. Even if the 'juice' was probably mostly coffee, it didn't matter. Ruining one coat was enough that she'd never do it again.

The dumpster was adjacent to the parking lot, where there wasn't much to see but the cars and the fenced-in dumpster. But while in public on the cafe's property, as a concession to modesty, Connie wrapped her cock with a condom. The box of XXXL condoms were provided by the main office, placed next to a memo that warned that they were not to be used for intercourse while on the clock, or else a Disciplinary Notice Letter would be filed.

Luckily, Connie never wore condoms during intercourse. She threw away the full bag of trash, holding her breath until she was inside, and dropped her gloves in the waste basket in the back room. She returned to the floor, catching the eye of a larger man with a blue bandana and denim vest.

He pointed at her crotch without really meaning to. "Is that a to-go box?"

"It can be, honey." Connie walked up to him. "You want it?"

"What flavor's on tap?" The man brought his palm underneath her balls, lifting them softly and cradling them with his fingers.

Connie ignored the minor breach in protocol. He hadn't asked to touch her, but he was at least being gentle. "Today, I've got Coconut."

The man released Connie's balls as if she just told him they were radioactive. "Ooh. No thank you."

Connie opened her arms. "Fine. I'll take my balls where we're appreciated." Connie sat herself down in one of the chairs and masturbated. Having her flavor neglected for too long, she was backed up, and ejaculated in less than twenty seconds of hard pounding. She filled the condom almost all the way full of her piña colada-scented sweetness. She tied it off, wiped her tip with a few napkins, and set her filled condom on the custom tray for such daily deals.

Because of legal mumbo-jumbo, there was no difference in price between a drink with or without the special sweeteners. Even if the customer were to wring the futa jizz out of their meaty cocks with their own two hands, the only thing they paid for was the drink itself. In the legal sense, this meant the transaction was not prostitution.

The 'gift boxes,' as the man had put it, weren't part of any consensual sex act between two people, so those could be sold for however much they wanted. But at the Futa Brew, filled condoms were set out on the tray for anyone who wanted them. It was flattering to know that any customer wanted to take their flavor home.

"I swear it's nothing personal." Said the denimed man. "I'm allergic to coconuts."

Connie inhaled to say something, and then her eyebrows lowered. She looked down to the crumpled napkins in her hand and her own cock with a curiosity that made her look like she'd never noticed it before. "Would that cause a reaction?"

"Well, I'm not eager to find out." The man pulled his eyes away from Vanna whacking off her huge meatstick for a few seconds to look at Connie. He didn't want to miss the money shot. "But the one time I had coconut when I was a kid, I didn't like it AND I almost died."

"Not a bad thing to be allergic to, then, huh?" Connie reasoned, finally tossing out her napkin. "Hey, Patti?"

"Yeah?" Patti called from the office above the counter, the window open enough that she could hear such a call.

"If someone's allergic to coconut, can they have the Coconut mixer?"

A few second of silence, except for Vanna's watch jingling on her hand as she pounded her cock. "I'm not sure." Patti confessed. "If you're lactose-intolerant, you can have the mixers."

"Yeah, there's no lactose in it. Obviously." Connie called. "But... is there coconut in the Coconut mixer? Or is it artificial?"

"Hnnnnggggg..." Vanna cried dramatically, finally spilling her seed into the bottom of the paper cup, sweat giving a shimmer to her forehead and decolletage.

"I don't know for sure." Patti said, once Vanna had quieted down.

"Are there ingredients on the package?"

"Melanie, go find the package and see if there's ingredients on it."

"I'm with a customer." Melanie answered. Patti couldn't see from her vantage point, but Melanie was on all fours in one of the booths, the table from the booth having been moved away so a man in a suit could pull her cock straight down into a plastic iced coffee cup. Melanie could feel his wedding ring roll up and down her cock, occasionally catching the skin uncomfortably in the gap between the ring and his finger. And he hadn't used any lotion, the brute.

"Fine, I'll look for them." Connie disappeared into the back for a moment. Zelda finished up mixing up the man's drink while Vanna recovered.

"Would you like anything else?" Zelda asked.

"No, that should do it." The man tapped his smart phone to the credit card reader, and the debt was paid somewhere in cyberspace. "Thanks." He walked out of the cafe.

While he was still in view, Connie came back in. When she realized he was gone, she went after him, grabbing a condom to cover herself again.

She caught him in front of the picture windows in front of the cafe. "Hey!" She got his attention. "The bag was blank, so we don't know if it's allergic or not, but... if you email our district manager, they might be able to answer that question." She held out a business card.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." The man stepped back, posing her palms outward.

"What? I've got a condom on."

"Could we not talk out here, please?"

Connie looked at the customer a little sideways. She pulled her shirt out of her skirt for a moment and threw it over her cock. "Is that better?"

"Look, I just don't need people seeing me talking to you with your thing out, OK?"

"So you'll drink our jizz, but you don't want to talk to me in public?"

"This is a regular coffee, as far as anyone else knows." The man pointed confidently.

Connie's left eye twitched involuntarily. "There's out logo on the cup! It's literally a cartoon of a futa ejaculating into a coffee cup!"

The man pulled a reusable coffee cup sleeve out of his pocket, one normally reserved for iced coffees to stop them from condensing all over the place. "What logo?" The man said as he placed it inside the sleeve. "Look, I love your coffee. But what I do inside there has got nothing to do with me outside. OK?"

The man walked off to continue his day.

Connie walked back into the Futa Bar. Melanie saw her return and spoke up from her makeshift milking bench.

"You shouldn't have followed him out like that." Melanie said, the man still working her.

"I just wanted to give him the card of the main office, so he can ask them."

"WE can do that." Melanie said. "And besides, you know some people are embarrassed to get their coffee here."

"That's bull." Connie said. "That's unfair. 'I'll drink your sweet jizz, but I don't want anyone to KNOW that I'm drinking it.' Is this a straight guy's version of being in the closet?"

"I'll go right out and say..." Said the man milking Melanie at the moment. "That I don't give a damn who knows I'm here. I tell people about this place all the time. It's my favorite coffee place by a mile. If you need someone in your commercials, I'll do it."

"That's very nice of you to say, sir." Melanie said. "You should send in feedback on the website. That way the higher-ups know you like what we do..." This was taking a while, Melanie thought. Maybe if she held her breath...

"Well... it's not like any of us know your name." Connie shrugged.

"My name is Douglas James Gable." The man said suddenly, gripping Melanie tighter, who grunted. "Would you like me to spell it?"

"Wait a minute..." Zelda recognized the name. "Isn't there a Dr. Gable's office near here?"

"That's me." Douglas said. "I'm a dentist."

"Well, what brought a dentist into our den of debauchery and coffee?" Zelda inquired.

"Why wouldn't a dentist love the world's best sugar-free sweetener?"

"Oh my God!" Zelda said, turning to face Patti's window. "Patti!"

"What?"

"If we get three more dentists in here, we can say four out of five dentists recommend the Futa Brew!"

There was no immediate response, except for the rustling of Melanie's continued and still fruitless milking.

"What?" Patti repeated.

"Never mind."

Connie looked out the window, at the passersby walking by, most with some sort of beverage in their hands. Either that or a phone, the coffee of the mind.

"At least he didn't have a Styrofoam cup."

"What?" Melanie squeaked.

"He didn't use a Styrofoam cup to cover his coffee, like they do at other places." Connie said. "That drove me nuts at the last shop I worked at, when people would get a Styrofoam cup just so their iced coffee wouldn't sweat on their desk or wouldn't be too cold to hold. That's such a waste. It's not like it can be recycled easily. At least use the same one every day..."

Melanie let out a straining grunt. Finally, she released herself into the plastic cup, the man wringing every drop out of her cock over the course of an intense forty second orgasm.

The man looked at the cup. "Ooh, this looks like too much."

"It felt like a lot." Melanie wheezed, staying on all fours until the dizziness passed enough to let her stand on two legs again. Before she could stand, Douglas stood from his seat and held Melanie's chin. He put the cup up to her lips and poured some of her jizz into her mouth.

Melanie made an alarmed sound, but still opened her mouth and permitted the man to pour about half the cup into her mouth, three big mouthfuls of her own come crawling warmly down her throat. A tiny flicker of disgust flared in her mind, but it was quickly drowned out.

It tasted amazing. She'd forgotten how much she loved the taste of caramel. The hot, almost buttery liquid was the perfect level of sweetness. No wonder it was so popular.

Douglas rubbed Melanie's hair with the hand that had recently been jacking her off, brushing it flat back against her head the way you might stroke a horse's mane. He got up suddenly and brought the half-filled cup to the counter for mixing. Melanie was left there, stunned, a strand of come hanging from her lip like a stalactite.

Zelda completed the drink and rang up the dentist. She had one last question for him. "So, one professional to another... how do you avoid coffee stains on your teeth?"

"Drink it through a straw." He pointed.

"That's stupid." Zelda said immediately.

"Then use whitening toothpaste, or any over-the-counter whitening product." Dr. Gable continued. "Just follow the instructions. Don't leave it on for any longer than they say."

He left. Melanie took a few deep breaths, returning to her feet. She retrieved the cleaning spray and started to give the tables a good buff.

"You ever see her blush so hard?" Connie asked Zelda as she waited for a credit card to go through.

"Nope." She responded.

"I can hear both of you." Melanie looked up, cheeks sill flushed.

-

Can you do some refills?" Melanie patted Vanna on the shoulder to get her attention and pointed to a pair of men sat in the corner booth. They'd been there for a while, both their cups empty.

"Sure." Vanna poured two cups of regular black coffee and set them on a tray. She went into the drawer and withdrew a soft blue cylindrical device. Most would recognize it as a 'pocket pussy' style device, but this one had a screw fitting on one end to hold a clear plastic bottle on the end. It was the only way to fill these things with come neatly. They used to have little ceramic cream pitchers, but they were too small to hold the full volume of their emission, and filling them all at once was always a mess. Now, they used clear squeezable bottles that were the same size and shape as diner ketchup bottles, with the same narrow cone-shaped dispensing spout.

Vanna pushed her huge cock into the pocket pussy with some difficulty, the gel stretching over her girth. These products were not designed with her in mind, but then again, what was? The pocket pussy itself was only six inches long. Maybe it was a commentary on the sort of people who use them and their size.

The first time she used one of these, she didn't like it. The inside was filled with round nubs that felt slimy and weird. She pictured the American tradition of closing ones eyes and touching stuff at Halloween, claiming wet macaroni to be zombie brains or something. At first touch, she found this to be a gross experience.

But as she used it more, and on days where she would masturbate with her own hand many times... the pocket pussy was a nice change of pace. It was cooler than her hand, and tugged and gripped her cock with a million wet, tacky fingers. She could see herself using this product at home and having fun... if one was built to handle her size more easily. She wondered when this thing would finally tear apart from her stern thrusts.

Today, of course, Vanna had to fill this bottle, so she rubbed the wet, cold thing on her cock and held her breath until she came and filled the whole bottle, the internals of the pocket pussy... and a few dribbles of come sprayed out around the edges.

Melanie had watched her do that without meaning to. She clenched her teeth.

Vanna uncoupled the pocket pussy from the bottle, and Melanie was there to take it.

"I'll wash this." She said.

Merci beaucoup." Vanna said, screwing the squeeze nozzle onto the full bottle and setting it on the tray. She walked it out.

Melanie took the pocket pussy to the sink and turned on the water. She looked at it, the puckered hole barely returning to its shape after being stretched by Vanna's giant cock. Melanie's hand tensed, and she squeezed the gelatinous thing inadvertently. A single drop of Vanna's leftover come slipped out of the hole.

With her heart pounding, turning away from the crowd and her coworkers, Melanie put her lips to the portal of the pocket pussy and slurped out what she could. She even slid her tongue into it to taste just a little more sweet vanilla.

Once she was satisfied, she lowered the pocket pussy from her lips and rinsed it in the sink, as she said she would. Despite how often semen was consumed in this establishment, Melanie really hoped nobody had seen her do that.

Zelda had. In a mark of considerable restraint, she just chuckled to herself.

Vanna presented the two black coffees to the men sitting at the far booth. "With our compliments."

"Thank you." Said one of the men. "Do you have creamer?"

Vanna held the squeeze bottle and gave it a gentle shake. "Fresh squeezed, one minute ago... by me... from me."

The man took it and squeezed a little into his cup. His friend took the bottle and pointed it at her with a playful smirk. "What if I squirted this all over your titties?"

She looked down at herself. "I don't want my bra to get all sticky..."

"Then get rid of the bra." The bro helpfully suggested.

"Maybe Zelda can field this one." She looked back to the counter, seeing Zelda at the register. "She's busy. Maybe when the line is over."

Zelda walked back. What she hadn't told them was that 'refills' was a euphemism for a customer who seemed to just be hanging around for no reason. Their latte cups were empty and they were sitting and talking. This was fine, but all the seats were occupied, and all the seats were now filled. The logic was that giving them free coffee would inevitably force them to the lavatory, out of the seat, where it could be sat in by a new customer. Even the coffee they used would likely be tossed out for a newly brewed batch within minutes.

This time, it didn't work. They went to the lavatory individually, hogging the booth while groups of four crowded into couches meant for three.

They wouldn't encounter them again until later on, as Vanna circled the counter with a dainty watering can. It dribbled little drops of water down the spout as she walked, having filled it higher than recommended so she wouldn't have to fill it more than once and walk back. She didn't mind; her cock was doing the same thing, a wet line like a streak of tears running down the underside.

She visited each thirsty plant in turn and fed them, similar to what they did at this establishment. When she came around to the front window, she stepped to the side to be out of the view from the window. The passersby and neighbors didn't seem to mind them walking around with their cocks out, so long as they didn't just hang out in plain view from the street. Maybe they didn't mind either way.

Vanna bent over about ninety degrees to water one of the last plants, sprinkling the water about delicately to not disrupt the soil. Because of the uniform's lack of underwear, Vanna had unintentionally presented herself to one of the two men she'd served refills to, her nice round ass, the little slit of her pussy, and even her huge balls hanging below it.

The second man cocked an eyebrow, gestured with both hands to the bare ass presented to him, and gave Vanna's right butt cheek a slap.

Springing up and almost losing grip of the watering can, Vanna swung her right hand and slapped the man across the face with the back of her hand.

"Ah! What the hell?!" The man said.

"You slap me, I slap you." Vanna said directly.

The man looked about, as if the rule made no sense. "But I saw someone spank her and he didn't get slapped back."

"Yes, but he almost certainly asked permission, or else he would have gotten a slap back. That's the rule. Ask permission, and we'll do almost anything you want. But it's all at our..." Vanna paused to think of the English word. She knew the French word. "discretion. You did it right the first time, when you wanted to squirt the stuff on me. Why didn't you do it again?"

"I think I want to talk to your manager." The guy said.

"Patti?" Vanna called up to her window.

"What is it?"

"He spanked me without asking, so I slapped him."

"That's fine." Patti answered.

"I don't think it IS fine." The man called out to the window.

"If you really don't think consent is important," Vanna looked at him. "Then how would you feel if I pounded your ass right now?"

The man smirked a bit, but then considered the mass of the thing he was facing. He slurped down his coffee and stood.

"You don't have to leave." Vanna said. "Nobody's kicking you out."

The man left, his friend trailing behind for just a moment.

"He's a big fat chicken, but... I'd give it a shot."

Vanna smiled. "You Americans... so eager to climb the biggest mountain."

-

"I have a request." Said a man with gray hair gracing his temples.

"Certainly. It's not busy, so we can probably do it." Melanie said. "What is it?"

"I want to have just the come that leaks out from one of your pussies when one of the others has sex with you."