Llamasr, our jolly fellow, finds himself in a grove of yellow trees, their leaves rustling like whispers of encouragement. He turns, facing the sun, and bends, hands on the bark, his ass offered up like a gift. His smile widens as he feels the first touch, a lubricated finger tracing his crack, and then the pressure, the slow, steady push as he's filled, his body stretching to accommodate the thick intrusion. He pushes back, eager for more, his laughter echoing through the trees as he enjoys his jolly good fellow ending.