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,

Lunengar Slough... Townsfolk always told me to steer clear of these vast swamplands neighboring our area.
The reclusive crocodilians that have made the deeper parts of it their home are primitive hunter-gatherers, 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 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 set foot on an alligator's fishing hole, no doubt scaring off his 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 their goods or themselves.

Once I realized what they all seem to want the most (law or not, they do have a tendency to steer you toward it) and what that entailed, I just... I just 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 and size, and how gifted they are between their legs. What does it for me is the sheer passion of their desire, the thirst with which they go about it.
Theirs seems to be a wild, unfettered way of lovemaking that you just don't see these days.
Perhaps mating or breeding would be the better word, with intensity dialed to the max. Animalistic in a way that I think just requires an upbringing amidst nature and its hardships. Right of the strongest, that kinda thing.

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

I'll spare you the most icky details, dear diary, but I'll say this: once we're done, 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 hellishly 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 so 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 obvious 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 gator tore my clothes off and forced himself on me, all their efforts have been sadly wasted. Should that makes me a freak, well, so be it.

You know, perhaps one day I'll actually be able to track down that village, in whatever shape or form it exists, when I'm somehow not apprehended beforehand. Maybe see what's going on there. I wonder how many more attempts it'll take... Eight and counting.

Maybe next time, I can at least find out if sharing is a concept present in their culture~

Yours,

Anon