Futa-Spy's Wicked Disguise Read online

  Futa-Spy's Wicked Disguise

  Naughty Futa Spy 2

  (A story of the Aphrodite Sisterhood Universe)

  by

  Reed James

  Copyright © 2019 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, 2019

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

  Cover Photo © Volkova | Depositphotos.com

  Logo © Anton Brand | Dreamstime.com

  Naughty Ladies Publications

  www.NaughtyLadiesPublications.com

  If you liked what you read, you can sign up for Reed James's newsletter. Every subscriber gets two FREE erotica ebooks as well as updates on new releases, coupons, sells, and upcoming projects. Your contact information will not be shared with anyone!

  Like Reed on Facebook and follow him on Twitter @NLPublications!

  Check out Reed James's Catalog of steamy erotica on Amazon.

  Reviews at the retailer are appreciated. Honest feedback is very important to Reed.

  Futa-Spy's Wicked Disguise

  Naughty Excerpt from “Futa-Spy's Wicked Disguise”

  Stories of the Aphrodite Sisterhood Universe

  Futa-Spy's Wicked Disguise

  Naughty Excerpt from “Futa-Spy's Wicked Disguise”

  I licked my lips and moaned in delight at the naughty sight.

  Then I glanced over to see Polina sliding her lacy panties down her thighs, revealing a trimmed, brown bush glistening with her silky hair. They were both gorgeous. Polina put her hands behind her back, her legs spread apart. Her small breasts jiggled as she breathed quickly, her flush spreading down to those lovely tits. Then Nadya joined her, those big, lush boobs swaying at her slightest movement, her dark eyes sparkling.

  “Mmm, yes, this is what you like,” I purred, my pussy on fire. I shouldn't be doing this, but... They were just so gorgeous. I stalked around them, my heels clicking, the soft whir of the computers humming around me. “Huh? You like getting turned on by futas?”

  “Futas, Major?” asked Polina as I moved behind them.

  My hand trailed across her tight tush, caressing her skin, my fingers grazing her cracks. “Yes, futa. You know what futas are?”

  To find out what happens next, read on!

  Stories of the Aphrodite Sisterhood Universe

  Futanari Coeds 1: My Roommate's Futa Lover

  Futanari Coeds 2: Futa's Broken Heart

  Futanari Coeds 3: Saving My Futa Lover

  Queen of the Futa Dorm 1: Serving the Queen

  Queen of the Futa Dorm 2: Extra-Curricular Fun

  Queen of the Futa Dorms 3: Cheering the Futa

  Naughty Futa Spy 1: Futa-Spy Seduces the Hot Wife

  Futa-Spy's Wicked Disguise

  My stolen car pulled up to the guard shack before the “Ministry of Youth and Culture” building. It was a front for the SVR. The SVR, Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki, was the Russian version of the CIA. My mission required me to infiltrate it and copy their database onto a thumb drive. I was an intelligence officer for a small, U.S. spy agency known as the American Reconnaissance Service (ARS). The U.S. had dozens of intelligence agencies, but we might be the smallest.

  They gave me a purpose after I lost my memory and taught me how to use my special attribute. I was what the director, Ms. Bella Mars, called a futa. I had a clit that could turn into a dick. For some reason, this made me irresistible to other women. I exploited that fact to accomplish my mission.

  It was two weeks from my seduction of Ektraina. The sexy, blonde woman was the wife of Stas Mikhailov, an intelligence officer who worked here. While he was out of town as his cover as a “diplomat,” I copied the information off his identification badge while his wife was thoroughly satiated by my futa-cock.

  Now I had a new badge made up, a new idea. I was no longer Galya Sobol, I was now Yelizaveta Vinogradov., a major if the SVR's Central Inspection Bureau. My car had dummy plates registered to me. It wouldn't ever trace back to my true identity.

  I shifted in the car as I slowed to a stop. My hands gripped the steering wheel. Though I was Hispanic in origin, my real name Juana Bustos, I was masquerading as a Tartar, an Asian ethnic group in Russia. The guard in the shack was an older guy, chubby and wearing a windbreaker, his white shirt buttoned up and a dark tie falling down his shoulder.

  “Evening,” I said, a bright smile on my face. I wore a tight pencil skirt and a light-gray, silk blouse, a dark-gray blazer over it.

  He nodded at me. “ID?”

  I handed it over. He popped it into his computer. My stomach churned while I kept up my smile. Part of being an intelligence officer, a spy, was having a good poker face. I couldn't pretend that my stomach was a mass of churning acid. There was a beep. This was a hacked version of the badge. It added my own information into the system while at the same time gave me the same access as Stas Mikhailov.

  “Good evening, Major,” he said, giving me a nod as he handed back my card. The gate buzzed and then trundled open. Ahead of me was the squat, ugly government building. A box with windows rising up into the sky, a sparsely populated parking lot before it.

  I found my pre-planned parking spot, grabbed my purse, and headed inside, my heels clicking as I marched with purpose. My tongue ran across my plump lips, waxy with my crimson lipstick. My breasts bounced in my blouse. I never wore underwear.

  As a futa, it slowed me down when I needed to have naughty fun.

  I passed a second security checkpoint, this one manned by a pair of clean-cut, young men. They were fit, looking straight out of the Russian Army. They x-rayed my purse while I went through a metal detector. They waved me through, not detecting the flash drive hidden in the bottom of my tube of lipstick.

  I smiled at them and nodded, feeling their eyes on me as they appreciated my curves. I didn't know why I had an aversion to men, but I didn't like them. There was something visceral in my reaction. It was strange. Maybe it had to do with my original memories I'd lost, or, perhaps, with my futa-cock.

  I knew where to go. I marched with confidence as I headed to the first security door. My keycard inserted. The lock click. I was inside the true face of it. An intelligence-gathering operation. I had no idea what my employer wanted me to get here. I didn't care. It was my job to get it. Ms. Bella Mars was counting on me.

  I slipped into the first restroom to touch up my lipstick. I slipped out my small USB stick in the process, hiding it in the folds of palm the way a sleight-of-hand artist would. I stepped out and marched to the elevator. I used my keycard again and summoned the elevator. I rode it down, my skin tightened. There was this tingle around my skin. My hair stood up on my arms. I fought my excited nervousness.

  A tingle raced through my clit.

  The elevator dinged. I stepped off on the floor. I marched down the hallway, passing rooms with such innocuous name as “Basement One,” “Basement Two,” and “Basement Three.” My heels echoed around me. I rounded the corner and then I found it. “Basement Seven.” I marched up to the door then jammed my keycard into the lock.

  It whirled. Beeped.

  When you are a spy, you had to be ready to improvise. Plans rarely worked out the way you expected them to. At this time of night, the analysis suggested that there would be no one in the data archive working.

  Instead, there were two people sitting at two of the dozen computers, separated by three stations. They turned around and looked at me as the door closed behind me. I straightened my back, feeling their eyes on me, t
he confusion furrowing the nearest woman's brow. She had black hair that fell down her back, a ruffled, lace blouse cupping a pair of large breasts. The other woman, a slender brunette, rose from her seat, her blue eyes focusing on me.

  “Can we help you?” asked the brunette.

  I pulled out my identification, not my keycard, and held it up beside my face. “I am Major Yelizaveta Vinogradov. This is an inspection of your data center.”

  Both women gasped. They bounced to their feet. Though the Soviet Union had fallen, that sort of authoritarian drive to obey superiors had imprinted upon their institutions. Neither woman questioned it as they stopped before me, the busty woman's breasts swaying beneath her ruffled blouse. Both wore skirts, the brunette's shorter, a dark-blue that matched her lighter blue, V-neck blouse. She had small breasts and plump lips.

  My clit throbbed as naughty thoughts flowed through me. I needed to get in and out, but wicked ideas popped into my mind. The women stared at me, both their cheeks growing bright-red. Their pupils dilated.

  “Names?” I demanded.

  “Nadya Pavlov,” the black-haired beauty said, her nipples poking at the front of her blouse. “Computer technician, second grade.”

  “Polina Shwetz,” the brunette then said, lifting her chin. “Computer technician, second grade.”

  “Explain your jobs,” I commanded, my hand clenching around the flash drive.

  “Yes, ma'am,” Polina said. She turned to the computer. “We are responsible for collating the information coming in from our case officers during the graveyard shift. We prioritize it and assign it to the proper department. If it is classified high security, we merely ensure it goes to the proper desk without decryption.”

  “Excellent,” I said as I stood before a computer. I brushed it, pressing the flash drive into the front USB port. It hardly protruded at all, a small rectangle of black that was the same shade as the case. You would have to look closely to see it.

  Immediately, it began copying the hard drive.

  “What do you do if something of grave importance to national security comes in?” I asked.

  Nadya turned to her station. She bent over to open her drawer. Her tight rump molded to her skirt. It rode up her thighs while my clit throbbed and twitched. She pulled out a manual. “We have a list of numbers to call and alert of the fact with an order of where to call and a list of their alternatives if we cannot get to them.”

  “Good,” I said, both women's cheeks flushed now. They stared at me with some confusion like they felt something strange growing in them. Polina shifted from side to side, her hips squirming as she stared at me. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Wrong, Major?” Polina asked, the vein in her throat pulsing.

  “Yes, wrong. You look nervous. You are squirming.” I stepped before her, my pussy on fire. It dripped juices down my thighs. My nipples poked hard against my silk blouse. The cool material massaged them. I stared into Polina's eyes. This close, I could smell her bath soap, a rosy delight. “What are you hiding?”

  “Nothing, Major,” she said, her body trembling.

  “Nothing?” I asked. I stepped closer to her, my breasts almost grazing her chest. “The way you are moving doesn't seem like it's nothing.”

  She swallowed. “It's just...”

  “What?” I stared into her blue eyes. The brunette trembled before me. Her forehead had a naughty gleam to it, her cheeks burning bright. “Tell me. Now.”

  “I'm just... aroused.” She said that last part with a groan.

  “Aroused?” I pursed my lips. “Are you aroused by being inspected by me?”

  She swallowed. “I... I think so, Major.”

  “You think?”

  “I am, Major,” she groaned, her voice throaty and aroused. “I don't know why, but... but...”

  “But, what?” I thrust my hand forward and pressed her skirt between her thighs, cupping her pussy. “Do you have a hot cunt, is that it, Polina?”

  Beside us, Nadya let out a whimpering moan. She quivered in the corner of my eyes as I rubbed Polina's pussy through her skirt and panties. She shuddered from side to side. Her thighs squeezed around my hand.

  “Is that it, Polina?” I asked, feeling the heat bleeding through her skirt. “Do you have a hot, wet cunt?”

  “Yes,” she groaned, her body shuddering. “I don't know why, but... but...”

  I ripped my hand away and she groaned. I whirled around to face Nadya. She had her hands clutched before her, her lips gleaming wet. She swallowed as I stared at her. She straightened, her large breasts bouncing as she adjusted her blouse. They were so large, her bra couldn't constrain them.

  “And you?” I asked, marching to her. “Do you have a hot cunt?”

  “I do, Major,” she groaned, her face scarlet all the way to her hairline.

  I grabbed her nipples, tweaking them through her blouse and blouse. She gasped and shuddered as I rolled them through the layers of cloth and fabric. The sounds she made were so naughty. Her body trembled, her hands clenching and relaxing.

  “You are also turned on by being inspected.” I shook my head. “What deviant sluts you two are. If you want to be inspected properly, then I will do it.”

  “Inspected... properly?” groaned Nadya as I twisted her nipples. Then she added, “Major.”

  “Yes, both of you naked, now!” I said. “Hands behind your head, legs spread. Let me see these whorish bodies that are turned on by being inspected. Let me see what deviant, kinky sluts work here at night.”

  “Yes, Major,” moaned Polina, her hands flying to her blouse.

  I twisted Nadya's nipples again. She shuddered as she whimpered. Then I ripped my hands away. She gasped and panted, her head shaking. She licked her lips as she grabbed the hem of her blouse, pulling it off. She exposed her large breasts in a red bra, cupping them.

  Polina's small breasts were contained in a light-blue bra. She had a belly piercing, a small charm dangling down her flat stomach. I arched my eyebrow at that, smiling as it swayed. Her cheeks seemed to grow even more scarlet as she reached behind her and unhooked her bra.

  Her tiny tits came into view. They were perky and jiggling, her pink nipples were hard, poking from that small areola. They had such a delicious firmness to them. My hands itched to cup them. Then Nadya pulled off her own bra. Her big, soft boobs came into view, her fat nipples thrusting forward. It was just such a delicious sight to behold.

  I groaned at how naughty I was.

  My flash drive should be finished downloading everything by now, but I couldn't look away from these women. My clit was on fire. My pussy dripped juices down my thighs. I squirmed, my skirt rustling as I watched them.

  Nadya turned around as she unzipped her skirt. She dropped it down her body like she wanted to show me something. I thought it was the curve of her sexy ass until I saw the back of her thighs. She had two bows tattooed right beneath the curve of her rump. It was like she was a gift in need of unwrapping. The ribbons dangled down towards her knees.

  I saw why she wore the longer of the two skirts.

  I groaned as she then bent over, thrusting down her red panties. Her ass was just such a bubbly delight. Between her thighs peeked her shaved pussy. She was swollen and aroused, her juices glistening on her flesh.

  I licked my lips and moaned in delight at the naughty sight.

  Then I glanced over to see Polina sliding her lacy panties down her thighs, revealing a trimmed, brown bush glistening with her silky hair. They were both gorgeous. Polina put her hands behind her back, her legs spread apart. Her small breasts jiggled as she breathed quickly, her flush spreading down to those lovely tits. Then Nadya joined her, those big, lush boobs swaying at her slightest movement, her dark eyes sparkling.

  “Mmm, yes, this is what you like,” I purred, my pussy on fire. I shouldn't be doing this, but... They were just so gorgeous. I stalked around them, my heels clicking, the soft whir of the computers humming around me. “Huh? You like getting turned on
by futas?”

  “Futas, Major?” asked Polina as I moved behind them.

  My hand trailed across her tight tush, caressing her skin, my fingers grazing her cracks. “Yes, futa. You know what futas are?”

  They shook their head. Of course, they didn't.

  “But you have heard of the K Directorate?”

  “The sparrows?” gasped Nadya, trembling as my hand brushed across her pleasant rump. I gripped her perky butt-cheek, digging my fingers into her as she groaned.

  “So you know that those of us who went through the program know how to... seduce,” I purred. The K Directorate was part of the old KGB. A program designed to train women to be honeypots, sexual traps to lure men into sexual compromise. They would sweet talk or blackmail their target to betray their country. It was supposedly defunct, but some thought the SVR maintained the program.

  After all, the KGB just changed its name when the old Soviet Union fell.

  “They trained me to be special,” I purred, standing before them. “And I have to stay in practice.” I stood before them and then slipped off my blazer. “Want to see.”

  “Yes, Major,” Polina groaned.

  “Blyat, yes,” Nadya moaned, her large breasts swaying.

  I draped my brazer over the back of the chair. I untucked my blouse and undid the buttons. I started at the bottom, revealing first my stomach, my skin a delicious shade of nut-brown. They were both so pale and sexy. Mmm, I loved White women, whether Russian or otherwise. They always looked so sexy against me.

  Their eyes watched my hands climb higher and higher. My stomach flexed. The bottom slopes of my round breasts appeared. My breasts swayed from side to side as I exposed some more and more of her tits. I thrust my blouse to the side, my nipples appeared, hard.

  Polina licked her lips. Nadya whimpered and trembled, those pale, lush breasts jiggling with her slightest movement.

  I slipped off my silky blouse, loving how they stared at me. I loved being a futa-spy. It was so much fun. I threw it over the back of my chair. Then I unzipped the skirt. It dropped down my body, their eyes falling on my shaved pussy, my clit poking out of my folds.