Casual conversation

"What is your name?" you ask him. Predictably, he glares at you and says nothing.

You tell him your name, pointing to yourself as you say it. He still just stares at you, but you can almost see his mind working furiously behind his eyes. He opens his mouth and makes a sound, but it is more an incoherent grunt than anything else.

You repeat your name, pointing at yourself. Then you look around. "Rocks," you say as you point toward the ring of them around the firepit. You continue to point at other things. "Tree. Leaves. Sky."

He continues to stare at you. He seems to comprehend that you are trying to communicate with him, but he does not seem to know what to think about it or how to respond. So you start to cycle through all the things you have already named, starting with yourself again. But after a few repetitions of the cycle, the Man has clearly become impatient. He grunts at you and, glaring, closes the distance between you with two huge steps and reaches down, grabbing you by the back of your neck. It has already become perfectly clear to you that outright defiance is not an option, so as he starts to haul you to your feet, you scramble to stand on your own. He leans down to pick up two of the gourds lying around his campsite with his free hand.

Keeping his huge, powerful hand painfully gripping the back of your neck, he starts marching you along a path he has apparently cleared through the foliage.

"Wait," you say, and he growls as he squeezes your neck harder. You yelp in pain but persist. "I can help you," you say. You reach your arms out to indicate that you can carry the gourds for him.

He stares at you for just a moment before breaking into a grin. He shoves the two gourds he is carrying roughly into your stomach, knocking a little wind out of you. But you recover quickly and keep a hold of them. He then picks up four more and piles them into your arms. They are awkward both due to their size and shape, but you arrange the pile of them in your arms so that they are relatively secure as the Man once again grips your neck and starts marching you through the jungle, this time carrying no gourds himself.

Despite the fact that you have tried to put aside those deep, dark, secret desires, their encroachment on your thoughts manifests as your penis starts pulsing and getting semi-erect.

After a few minutes tramping through the jungle, you hear running water, and a minute or so later, the Man guides you through an opening to the bank of a small, clear stream. You realize all of a sudden how incredibly thirsty you are. You also realize what the gourds are for.

The Man stops both of you near the edge of the water and seems for just a moment to be deciding what to do. You decide to continue your attempt at language lesson.

"Water," you say, nodding toward the stream. He sneers at you, then roughly shoves you down to your knees as he walks up to the stream. You stay there on your knees and watch him as he walks out to the middle of the stream. The water comes up to his thighs, but he ducks down into it for a moment, then stands back up. The water glistens all over every bulging muscle on his body, and you feel your dick throb.

He rubs water all over himself, paying you no more attention besides an occasional glance to make sure you are where he left you. He cups some of the water in his hands and drinks it, then goes back to washing himself. He seems suddenly bothered by the underwear he took from you earlier. Seemingly without another thought, he rips them off his body and casts them aside. You watch your tattered underwear, the last scrap of clothing you had, get carried away by the stream.

More significantly, you see the Man's massive penis hanging between his legs again, its plump, meaty head dangling in the water, just out of sight, and your own dick starts leaking. You try to lower the armful of gourds you are still holding to hide it.

But then the Man looks up at you, grunts, and jerks his head, then his hand. The gesture is not nuanced, but its meaning is plain: come here. You stand up, trying to keep the gourds low, but with another grunt and downward sweep of his hand, the Man tells you to put the gourds down.

You are embarrassed, and can feel a burning sensation in your face as you set the gourds down then stand up, your erection completely visible. But if the Man knows what this means, he does not show it. He simply watches as you stagger out into the water to stand before him.

He makes some more grunting sounds and vague hand motions, but you are fairly sure you know what he wants you to do, so you start washing yourself as he had been washing himself.

At first he looks surprised, and then there is an unmistakable look of comprehension on his face. But apparently he had not been intending for you to wash yourself, because he grabs your wrists and then plants your hands firmly on his chest.

"Fuck," you can't help whispering as you feel the solid slabs of muscle under your palms. But now you understand. He wants you to wash him. So you begin.

Seeing his massive, powerful body so close, touching every inch of it, has done nothing but make your erection even more persistent. You wash every rippling inch of him above his waist, and then his tight, muscular ass.

And then you know you have ****.

Kneeling down in the water so that it comes halfway up your torso, you come face to face with his massive cock.

Your hands tremble as you scoop up some water from the stream and start to wash it.

The Man convulses and gasps suddenly, apparently not having anticipated the sensation he would experience from someone else's hand on his cock.

He stares down at you for what feels like a few minutes, though in reality only a few seconds pass, before half-grunting, half-groaning: "Maah."

To you it sounds like "more," but even if that is coincidence, it is clearly what he wants.

Your hands still tremble as you start to wash his cock again. As you caress him, he starts to throb and grow. His thick, fat head lifts up out of the water and starts to rise up toward your face.

You look up at him glaring down at you in absolutely mystified pleasure as his cock grows bigger and bigger, approaching the size of your forearm.

You know what you want to do. You have wanted to do it for so long, even though you have wanted to pretend you didn't. But here you are on a deserted island, possibly with **** anyway. Then again, if he doesn't understand what you're doing, he might be upset. Or he might be upset even if he does understand. Or he might get aggressive and violent again. Or he might enjoy it so much that he'll make you keep doing it again and again...though would that necessarily be so bad?

You know what you want to do. You just don't know if you should.