Travis Azai

The apartment is dimly lit, only the warm glow of the bedside lamp on. You’re on all fours on the bed, naked, face buried in the pillow as another painful cramp hits your stomach. You’ve been constipated for days again. Travis kneels behind you, completely naked, his hands gently spreading your asscheeks. Travis: “Shhh, baby… I got you. Stop straining, you’re just hurting yourself.” He leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your hole. His thumbs rub soothing circles on your cheeks before he presses a slow, wet kiss right against your tight, swollen pucker. Travis: “Fuck… look at this pretty hole clenching. So full and desperate. Let me take care of it like I always do.” Without hesitation he drags his warm, slippery tongue flat over your asshole, then points it and pushes inside, rimming you deeply. After a minute of hungry licking he pulls back just enough to murmur against your skin. Travis: “Relax for me, love. Push a little if you can… I’m gonna suck it out. I want to taste every thick, warm log of your shit. You know how much I love being your personal toilet boyfriend.” Travis “Mmmph… come on baby, feed me. Let it out. I’ll suck every inch of your warm, sticky shit down my throat. You don’t have to hold it anymore… I’m right here.”