Carson sat in the cool, air-conditioned suite watching reality TV when Mr. Armisen walked in the door a little after 3.

“You almost got me in trouble, you sexy shit,” he laughed, tugging off his tie.

Carson sat up, eager to retort with something equally flirty, but all he could say was, “Sorry.”

Armisen chuckled, slipping his suit jacket off his back. “It’s alright. You ready to hike?”

“Sure.”

“Here, just let me change…”

Carson sat in front of the TV while Mr. Armisen wandered into the bedroom. But whatever played on the screen paled in comparison to the show next door. Carson’s eyes wandered, hypnotized, as Armisen stripped down to his briefs, peeling away the layers of professionalism and formality to reveal the muscled, furry beast beneath. He was built like a bodybuilder, perfectly proportioned, except when he turned to the side--his almost cartoonishly big butt sticking out behind him. It would be funny-looking if it wasn't so hot.

Carson cried out exasperatedly, “How do you look like that?”

Mr. Armisen laughed. “I lift.”

Carson shook his head. “The ladies must think you’re God’s gift to women.”

“I like to think it’s my stellar personality that gets them.”

The cocky asshole.

“And, seriously, that ass,” Carson leaned forward. “How much do you squat?”

“What, this?” Armisen asked, lifting one cheek to inspect, then letting it bounce back into place. He chuckled. “I’m Brazilian. Free with purchase.”

“Jesus… You have to let me eat you out…”

“Maybe later, horndog,” Armisen laughed. “Go get your shoes on before you stain the couch.”

Carson did as he was told. A few minutes later, Armisen emerged from the bedroom.

Carson looked up from his laces to see the man as he’d never seen him before--stainless white sneakers, olive shorts, a navy polo, a baseball cap and sunglasses. His short sleeves wrapped tight around his biceps, his muscled chest stretching out his shirt. Out of his work wear, Carson realized for the first time how much Mr. Armisen just looked like, well...a dad. He felt the blood rush to his pants.

“So,” Armisen asked, scratching just under his nipple. “Are you ready to go?”

“I’m gonna need a minute,” Carson said, glancing down at the bulge in his shorts.

* * *

Carson panted, struggling to keep up, Armisen’s fat ass disappearing into the brush overhead. They were hiking through a dense green forest, the humidity overwhelming, the ground below rocky and uncompromising. Even in his new outfit, Carson was feeling less sexy by the minute. He wondered if his wheezing was a turn-off.

“Let’s stop here,” Armisen said as they reached a cliff.

“Hokay,” Carson said, bending over, hands on his knees, trying to keep his gasps for air quiet.

“How ya doin’, buddy?”

“Great,” Carson tried to say, but all that came out was a cough.

Armisen snickered. “What do you say we take a breather?”

He pulled off his baseball cap and wiped the sweat off the top of his head. For the first time, Carson noticed his salt and pepper hair was thinning towards the very top.

Why did that just make him hotter?

Armisen set down his backpack to retrieve a water bottle. He chugged, letting the water dribble down his chin and splash his pecs until his nipples shone through. Then he let it drizzle his scalp, running his hands over his forehead to wash out the sweat. He looked over at Carson.

“Want some?”

“Sure--”

He held the bottle to his crotch and flicked it forward, sending a few drops squirting into Carson’s face.

“You fucker!” Carson sputtered.

“Thought you might wanna cool down,” Armisen apologized, handing Carson the bottle. Carson didn’t know how to tell him it only heated him up.

He sipped on the bottle and looked up to see Armisen prop one arm against a low branch and unzip, sighing in relief, his piss splashing loudly against the rocks.

Carson was weak, watching Armisen casually leaned against the tree, his hips swung to one side. His shorts hanging low. His furry crack peeking over his belt.

“Oh, here,” said Carson, stepping forward to lift up his pants.

“Thanks,” Armisen said without looking.

But Carson stopped for a second, his finger hooked inside the belt loop. And before he realized what he was doing, he slowly pulled down.

He watched, mesmerized, as Mr. Armisen’s juicy cheeks ballooned out of his shorts until they popped over his belt. Carson lowered to his knees, sliding Mr. Armisen’s pants until they fell around his ankles. His mouth flooded with saliva.

Armisen stopped peeing to look over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Carson didn't say a word. He just ran his tongue up Mr. Armisen’s stony calves, into the sweaty crux of his knees, along his powerful thighs, all the way up to his butt. He slowly sank his fingers into the giant’s flesh and squeezed.

“Carson,” said Mr. Armisen, his voice a mix of nerves and excitement. “Somebody could spot us.”

“I know.”

He looked Mr. Armisen dead in the eye and stuck the tip of his tongue deep into his crack.

Armisen winced and shuddered as Carson leaned in, flicking through a dense black forest towards his hole.

“Ungh,” Armisen moaned. Piss came blasting out his other end in quick, powerful spurts, his cock so hard it constricted the flow.

Carson had to use all of his upper body strength to pull Mr. Armisen’s cheeks apart. They were impossibly heavy, each one dense with muscle and about the size of Carson's head. But now he had a perfect view of his target--a little pink hole peeking out of his tightly curled butt hair.

I could suffocate in there, Carson thought. What a way to go, though. He took a deep breath and dove in, sinking his face into Mr. Armisen’s mountainous buns.

“Motherfucker,” Armisen moaned, tilting his head back, his piss squirting out like ejaculate.

His sweaty ass was delicious as Carson breathed in his thick and manly musk, his skin smooth as a chicken breast behind his coarse dark hair. Carson shook his head, motorboating him.

"Fuck, that tickles..." Armisen laughed, his cheeks flexing so hard they clamped down on Carson's head like a helmet, threatening to crush his skull.

Carson pulled his head out of his crack, gasping for air.

"You gotta loosen up for me," he said, running his hands along his beefy cheeks like he was taming a frightened animal. Mr. Armisen's glutes slackened at his touch.

"That's better," Carson said, slapping him hard like a horse. His skin rippled like an ocean.

"Mmff," the giant groaned.

Carson licked his lips and spat on the man's hole. Armisen stumbled as if he'd been shot in the back, catching himself against the tree.

"Careful," Carson said, and went down on him again, slipping his tongue across his tasty taint as he returned to his delicious red center.

"You feel so fucking good," Armisen whispered.

Carson moaned, lapping at his hole like a thirsty dog.

“You taste so fucking good--” he tried to say, his voice muffled by layers of muscle and fat. Armisen reached behind to push the boy’s head in further. Carson dug his nails into his skin, raking down.

Armisen’s whole body started to shake. “I’m gonna c--” he said, “I’m gonna fucking come--I’m gonna come so fucking hard…”

“Don’t you come yet,” Carson said, lifting his head out of his crack. He bit down, sinking his teeth into the soft, sweet cake and sucked.

“Mmffffuhh…”

Armisen swayed, his pee jetting out and splattering the ground below him.

CRACK. Suddenly, the branch gave way, and before Carson knew what was happening, Mr. Armisen was falling face forward.

Carson reached over the ledge, but he was too late. The giant went tumbling down the mountainside, his pants still wrapped around his ankles.