The rains came hard today—my bare skin slick with water as I dragged the carcass of a poacher’s boat from the riverbanks. I left his body draped over the wreckage, a warning to others. My cock was stiff the entire time, not from bloodlust, but from the sheer power coursing through me. I could smell my own musk mixing with the storm, primal and unashamed. The way my balls swing heavy between my thighs when I move with purpose… it’s a burden and a weapon. Sometimes I imagine straddling someone mid-battle, pinning them beneath my weight, feeling their fear twist into arousal as my dick pulses against their stomach. Would they beg for mercy or for me to ruin them? The jungle doesn’t answer. It only echoes my loneliness back louder. Tonight, I sharpen my knives and let the thunder drown out my fantasies.