Amanda's Third Pick

900 Days

It was a quiet evening for both you and Amanda. You'd both done some painting. You drew a display of fruit -- bananas. Amanda did something erotic. Paintings of her and past lovers.

Afterwards, you settled between her thighs, greedily feeding on her nectar. She patted your head, pushing you down further to eat her ample ass.

"I have my next pick, cucky," she said, stroking your head. You'd shaved it bald, finally bowing to the effect your treatments were having on your hair. You were now completely hairless. You looked up at her.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Gus," she said simply, closing her eyes as your tongue brushing against her pucker.

"Gus?"

"You know. That homeless guy down in the tent city. The nice one." They were all nice to her. Gus was 57, rank, with missing teeth and a booze addiction. He was also Black. You wrinkled your nose. She looked at you disapprovingly.

"We should use this opportunity to help out people too, cucky, not just for you to live vicariously through." You sighed. She had a point.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good boy. Now back to my ass, I need to order some clothes."