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By:Sawyer Bennett

st by the roaring fire. I immediately noticed his form was much taller than the Caraicans, who looked to average out at a height of five-eight or so. But this man was tall and, as his shadowy form got clearer the closer he came to the fire, I realized I was getting my first look at Zacharias Easton.

I didn’t know what I expected, but I wasn’t prepared for my first look at him. He easily topped out at maybe six-foot-three or so, completely dwarfing the small Caraicans. He was lean but well muscled in his chest, shoulders, arms, and legs. Numerous scars crossed over his body. His brown hair was long, down to his shoulders, and yet he was clean-shaven. While the native Caraica did not grow body hair other than what was between their legs, Zach was a white man living in a brown man’s world. He would definitely have had to shave to get that smooth face. I wondered how he accomplished that. Maybe a sharp knife? Or perhaps a razor blade given by a missionary?

And what a face… it was almost so perfect that I wanted to weep. I should have figured he’d be a beautiful man, because I’d seen pictures of his parents, who were very attractive people. His pale blue eyes shimmered in the light of the fire, throwing shadows over the high cheekbones, straight nose, and rock-hard jaw that seemed to be clenched in anger at that very moment.

My eyes involuntarily strayed to his pelvis, because he was as naked as the other people of the tribe were. And oh my… there was another difference as well. The tiny men of the Caraica couldn’t hold a candle to the magnificence that was hanging between Zach’s legs. He didn’t wear the protective sheath that the other men did on their penises, and even though he was completely flaccid, his circumcised shaft hung down thickly, a good three inches in soft length. He had to be massive when he was fully erect and, for the first time since laying eyes on the man I traveled to the jungle to collect for his godfather, I was mortified to feel a throb between my own legs in response to his male form. I quickly averted my eyes upward, since I was sitting next to a Catholic priest, and focused back on Zach’s face.

I couldn’t have imagined the animal magnetism he projected. He walked with confidence and swagger, and it probably had something to do with the huge haunch of tapir meat that was resting over his shoulder. He strode up to the fire and threw the entire leg onto the coals, the other men in the tribe cheering for the addition he just made.

Zach immediately went to Paraila and squeezed his shoulder affectionately. Paraila said something to Zach as he pointed to Father Gaul and me, sitting on the other side of the fire. The priest stood and stepped over to Zach, where he clapped him on the back and he made the same motion in return, giving him a warm smile of welcome. He didn’t even spare me a glance, just said a few more quiet words to Father Gaul and then knelt on the ground next to Paraila to talk some more.

When Father Gaul sat back down next to me, he leaned over and whispered, “I’ll talk to him later. He’s not taking this well.”

“I gathered,” I said, understanding. I knew it had to be hard for Zach to leave the only home he probably remembered.

I took another bite of alligator and chewed it thoughtfully while I watched Zach and Paraila talk. Whatever the old man was saying to his adopted son was being met with resistant ears because I watched Zach shake his head back and forth with dismay on his face, which then took on a hardened look. He said something more to Paraila, and then turned to point at me with a scathing look, clearly not happy with my presence. Finally, he surged to his feet as he said something more to Paraila, who just shook his head sadly at Zach.

It was with great interest that I observed Zach forsake the food laid out on clay platters, as he walked around the fire to one of the singing women. She was young… I guessed eighteen or nineteen by the looks of her, and very pretty. She was wearing a headband of black vulture feathers, which Father Gaul told me represented that she had reached puberty, had her first menses, but was not yet married. This was a rarity in the tribe because most women had a husband, and he wasn’t sure what this woman’s story was. If a woman took a husband, she no longer wore a headband of feathers. If she was innocent and hadn’t reached her first menstruation, she wore a headband of white, downy feathers. As far as I could see, this woman was the only one that wore a black headband.

Zach walked up to her as she sat on a petrified log, and she looked up at him with an open smile. He held his hand out to her and, with no hesitation, she placed hers in his outstretched palm. Zach helped her to stand, her breasts swaying gently with the motion. I wondered if they were off to have a secret moment together, and I remembered thinking that maybe she was Zach’s Caraican lover.

My hand was raised to my mouth to take another bite of food, but it froze when Zach turned his head over his shoulder to look at me. His eyes pinned me hard with a menacing look, and I saw something else in there as well.

Maybe challenge?

Then, to my utter astonishment, he pushed the woman down by her shoulder to the ground, where she knelt before him. I was completely stunned when I watched his cock start to swell, while the woman stared with adoring eyes up at the large man standing over her. Zach raised his arm and, with his finger pointed, made a circular motion in the air. The woman immediately turned around on her knees and lowered her cheek to the ground, both of her palms pressed into the dirt by her breasts.

Zach dropped to his knees behind her, his erection now at full mast and tilted proudly upward. He took a hand, stroked himself once, twice, and then released his hold. I was mesmerized as he reached out with one hand and laid it gently on the woman’s lower spine. He leaned forward as his other hand reached out and c