16
Ezra
We walk for quite some time before she stops and points up, where the tops of tropical trees meet. Upon checking them, I indeed find papayas hanging from them. And they are at the top. Like at the very top of very tall trees, untouched by humanity or hurricanes.
I swallow, imagining myself climbing up there to get the fruits and scratching the shit out of my already bruised dick. Can I maybe put it in my back pocket for safekeeping? What are my options here?I’ve got a big dick, alright, and I can’t just tuck it between my legs. It’s always in the way.
“Here they are. All you need to do is climb up there,” her index finger points at the top, “and get them. Maybe, like, shake it a little when you’re at the top, I don’t know.” She makes a gesture of shaking something with her hands. “We don’t have a knife, so maybe you can get a big, fat stick and beatthem with it.”
“Beat them with a fat stick?” I blink. All I’m thinking is how I’m going to protectmystick. And I’m definitely not planning to beat anything with it.What is she talking about?“What do you mean?”
Her brows go up to her hairline. “Big stick.” She points at a twig by her feet. “Beat.” She makes a motion with her hands of hitting someone with a bat. “Papayas.” She draws the shape of the fruit in the air. “Many papayas.” She keeps drawing them. “Stick.” Her finger goes again to point at the twig. “Beat.” Repeating the motion. “Papayas.” She points at the trees.
“I got it,” I reply, annoyed when I finally understand what she’s trying to tell me, my head fuzzy from thinking with my own stick.
“Are you sure?” She sucks her lips in. “I can try and explain it again.” Her big, blue eyes blink rapidly, making me even more annoyed.
“I got it,” I rasp and walk toward the palm. Grabbing the tree with my hands, I place one foot on the side of it, testing if I can keep my dick from being squashed if I press myself too close. Then I place the other foot and start climbing. Shit, it’s easier than I thought.
“You’re doing great, Tarzan!” She chimes in from the ground, nearly making me slip. “Oops, sorry!” she yells. “I’ll be quiet.”
Rolling my eyes, knowing she won’t be quiet because she doesn’t know how to, I keep climbing up. Thank fuck for my five-in-the-morning gym sessions. I’d feel like I’m not man enough if I couldn’t climb this shit and get her the damn papayas.
When I’m at the top, I try to reach for them. They’re firmly planted, refusing to be separated from each other and the tree.
“You forgot the stick. To beat them with!” she suggestshelpfully from the ground. “Maybe I can throw it at you.Toyou! I meant to you!” she quickly adds much louder.
Without waiting for my reply, she throws the damn stick, and it hits me on the shoulder.
“Oops! I’ll try again!” Sounding cheerful, she’s already picking up the fallen thing while I yell,
“No!”
But I’m too late, and the sharp side of her stick hits me in the cheek. “Fuck,” I growl.
“Oops! Sorry!” She giggles. “I’ll try again!”
“No!” I roar, but again, she’s not the person to listen. The stick is coming my way. For such a small thing, it packs a pretty decent punch. The only way she’ll stop hitting me with the damn thing is if I catch it, so I throw my hand in the air and catch it as its flying straight into my face.
“Damn, youareTarzan. I’ll call you Tarzan now.”
Rolling my eyes—again—I aim and smack the fruits off the tree. They fall down like a charm from a broken chain.
“Oh!” she yells, running to the side. “A little warning maybe?”
I glance at her, standing on the ground with her hands on her hips, a little to the side from the fallen papayas. She looks all right, that’s all that matters. And she’ll get her papayas after all.
“Sorry,” I say loudly, not sounding sorry in the slightest.
“Yeah, sure you are,” she replies, scratching her nose with her middle finger and making me roll my eyes, questioning her maturity.
With that, she sits on the ground to inspect the fruits. “We should eat them faster because they hit the ground pretty bad, so they might rot if we leave them like that.”
“Okay. Step to the side, I’ll try something.”
This time she chooses to listen and gets out of the way in a second.
Holding myself glued to the palm, I somehow manage to take off my T-shirt. Besides my dress shirt, it’s the last piece of clothing I can wear around here. The black wool jacket I stashed in my shelter is not the best option for not frying under the sun. I tie the neck of the shirt in a knot, creating a bag.
