Drat, guess that's me spotted again. 

Oohhh, a big, hefty guy too! And I think he likes what he sees~ 
How the heck did I miss him?

...

I'm in danger. :)

Dear, innocent diary,

Today, I have some confessions to make.

Lunengar Slough... have you heard of it?

Townsfolk always told me to steer clear of these vast swamplands neighboring our area. The reclusive crocodilians that call the deeper parts of it their home are primitive hunter-gatherers, uncontacted people, if you will. And their males in particular are said to be 'aggressive, territorial savages', or as I heard someone describe them: 'amoral, uninhibited brutes who just take what they want'.

I wasn't completely sure what he meant by that, but apparently people who had previously ventured in there were met with violence and robbed, while others never spoke out about what had happened, but they "weren't the same, went weird", whatever that means. And some... they were never seen again.

Just a buncha old wives' tales, I was sure.

But I'm the type that doesn't shy away from danger, or the unknown. So of course, my inner anthropologist had to get the better of me some day. Just one sneaky trek in there, one look at these people with my own eyes. I was willing to bet they weren't actually that bad.
Maybe I'd even find a beautiful tribal settlement, built with much more sophisticated craftsmanship than all that hearsay about lizards living in mudholes would have you believe. Just one cautious look. I can still hear myself say it: "Imma former scout with 30 merit badges damnit, I'm good at staying out of sight!"

Foolish, so foolish. Only an hour in and not yet nearing anything remotely resembling a civilization, as it happens, I had unwittingly set foot on an alligator's fishing hole, no doubt scaring off its quarry as I stepped through the shallows. It became clear that I was way, way out of my league when it comes to tracking and hiding...
It's true, you see: they really can hold their breath very well.

One sated curiosity later, I had to admit those warnings weren't all unfounded. Slightly aggressive? Yeah, checks out. Territorial? Definitely.
Primal and uninhibited, taking what they want without moral consideration, if they simply can through superior power? Mmhhm, also not inaccurate... Let me tell you, the experience was a wild rollercoaster of emotions, and I won't deny the first one was being scared out of my pants. Especially when I wasn't just scared out of them either...

Now, I know this kind of close and thoroughly invasive encounter should really have kept me far away from there for good. The uninformed would say I'm lucky to even have survived. But that's were they're wrong; these gatorfolk aren't murderous.
Yes, they're unappreciative of human trespassing and will leverage their brawn to take whatever they want from an interloper. I've been able to figure out that they consider you and your belongings theirs by right, and will forcefully claim payment for your infraction, but some sacred law among them appears to dictate that the caught 'prey' be given a choice to pay said penalty through either their possessions on them, or themselves.

Once I realized what they all seem to really want the most (law or not, I've definitely noticed a shared tendency to steer you toward it) and just what this payment through flesh entails, I... ehm... I kept coming back! :O

Turns out they're really, really good at it... Rough, inconsiderate and more than a little domineering, but amazingly good.

It's not just that overwhelming strength, or their sheer size (most of them I've ballparked at around 6'10" to 7'3", their frames are broad and they all carry muscle around).
No, what my time between their legs has made me realize about myself is that the sheer passion of their desire speaks to some primal part of me, the thirst with which they go about it... Theirs seems to be a wild, unfettered way of lovemaking that I haven't been able to find in our society so far.

Perhaps mating or breeding would be the better word, with intensity dialed to the max. Animalistic in a way that I think requires an upbringing amidst nature and the hardships it can bring. Right of the strongest, that kind of stuff. Or maybe they're simply wired differently than us.

Whatever it is has left its scars on me, and not just literal... I fear it has largely ruined me for men of my own kind.

I'll spare you the most icky details, dear diary, but it sure is a good thing that they seem to insist on carrying me all the way to the edge of the swamp to kick me out, because 500 pounds of hung reptile will make you walk funny. Especially if he decides that that wrecking ball at his base is to be included in his fun. (//ω//)

Whether this escorting is out of some kindness or just to make sure my intruding ass is gone, their thoroughness still saves me half the terribly sore, awkward trip home (not to mention sticky, what with all the mud and the uhm, y'know... Good thing there's water aplenty around there, though I find their taste to be difficult to wash out of my mouth).
And real talk? To be lifted over those strong shoulders and carried along, it makes for a ride that's really not unpleasant. By the way, I love that content rumbling noise they sometimes make during this time, it's very soothing!

I think I may have been partially right in my assessment: they may not be much for conversation (not that our languages have any commonalities to begin with), but these so-called savage brutes are total softies once they're satisfied!
Pent-up though, well, not so much... and it makes them stupidly addicting...

Man, do these guys have a female population problem or something? Or is it just all that raging testosterone coursing through their veins that's making them all so similarly virile and lecherous?

All I know is that I'm way more into it than I should be. If this is their way of punishing trespassers, then ever since that first alligator janked my clothes off and forced himself on me, any effort to scare me and everyone I know off has been sadly wasted. At the time, I didn't understand his gravelly, growled voice speaking a broken attempt at human words, nor his turn to sign language, intimidated as I was. In hindsight, I'm glad I didn't and that that frightening, yet devilishly handsome predator decided for me, introducing me to a side of myself I never knew.

I crave them, dear diary. Even to myself, it scares me to admit how much I do. The danger they represent, that jaw full of lethal teeth and our disparity in length and mass, how helpless I am in their claws. Things that I should fear but instead just seem to attract.

I crave the sensation of scales on my skin, of sharpness sometimes breaking it... I crave knowing how much I turn one on when he corners me, supposedly in honest anger, but without fail those ever-excitable slits of theirs already bulge at the rare prospect of breaking a soft, fragile mammal... And that's before my compliance makes those puffed-up lips (which by the way are so soft and doughy, love toying with them!) fully give way to a pillar of flesh, his amazing reptilian battering ram that my body will soon be molded around in ways I'd never thought it was capable of before entering Lunengar, electrifying every genital nerve both of us have. I crave the utter masculinity of that gutteral bellow when they reach an intense climax, the kind of sound that you feel in your bones more so than hear. And the liter of warmth shooting up my core, flooding my stomach or just painting all over me...

But more essentially, I crave the liberating dirtiness of laying with a beast in the muck, simply letting go of every inhibition you were taught. Only raw carnality. It's awesome.

Darn... and I said I wouldn't share icky details. Sorry, I got carried away for a moment. What's written has been written. :(

I know you do not judge me, my papery friend, but I don't doubt others would ostracize me as a freak or worse if they were to know any of this.

Well, so be it. If that ever happens, then I just have something new to work toward, like maybe, just maybe becoming more to these big hunks than some familiar or unfamiliar pest to deal with. But in this sense, I think I've figured out why some of those earlier wanderers may have stayed silent. Or if not, they were actually traumatized like, honestly, one is supposed to be after such violation. If you're not like me, at least.

I'm still very unsure about what happened to those that went missing, though.

But you know... perhaps one day, even without their help I'll actually be able to track down that village, in whatever shape or form it exists, when I'm somehow not apprehended beforehand. See what's going on there. I have a slight gut feeling there could be someone there of my kind. I wonder how many more attempts it'll take... Nine and counting.

I'd love to know so much more about them. Maybe next time I screw up, I can at least find out if sharing is a concept present in their culture~

For now, sorry to have dumped this... filth on you, but I really needed to get this off my mind. You are the only one I can always rely on for a listening ear. Thank you.

Yours,

Anon