Date: Fri, 26 Aug 2022 16:24:43 +0000 (UTC)
From: Martin <cowpokemarty@yahoo.com>
Subject: 100 Days

This story is an original work of fiction. I read and collect stories
from other writers and I am often influenced by their work. So, if I get
too close to an existing story, please let me know. It was not intended.
While I always see myself in my stories, all the characters are
fictional. I hope you enjoy it.

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100 DAYS

Ninety-five slash marks on the palm tree, grouped into fives, Sundays
marked by larger slashes wherever they ended up. Today was only a Friday.
I counted them again. One hundred days, Terry and I had been here on this
freaking island! Shit! This was the 21st Century, for Christ's sake!
People weren't supposed to get shipwrecked and marooned anymore.
I stuck the knife back into the tree trunk, we only had the one knife and
our "calendar tree" was the logical place to keep it. When our ship's
engine blew, not a heck of a lot had been left of our ship, or the crew
and passengers. I'd ended up in the water, coughing, spluttering. Only a
fortuitous meeting with a length of wood (probably part of the ship's
deck) had saved me from drowning. It was enough to rest my head out of
the water, I clung to it the rest of that night and all the next day,
unable to sleep.
The sea was finally glassy smooth and that let me see the small boat in
the distance. It was Terry. My teammate had somehow gotten into one of
the small lifeboats. I shouted with a voice that had long gone hoarse
from thirst, and I waved, and Terry rowed over with his hands and pulled
me out of the water.
Two days after that, with no water or food, we spotted the island.
Getting to it was a pain, but once there, we found clean fresh water, and
shade from the sun, and thus had been saved, if only barely.
Terry came up and looked at the tree, "95, huh?"
"Yeah," I sighed. "95 days with no prospects and nothing to do."
"What are you going to do when they rescue us?" Terry said. This was one
of our favorite conversations, and once we'd gotten comfortable enough
to let it happen, it usually ended up with both of us whacking off at
opposite ends of camp.
"What am I going to do? You mean after a big plate of fried chicken,
mashed potatoes and wash it all down with bottle after bottle of
Coca-Cola?" I grinned.
"I want a steak," Terry said, "and a bubble bath. Just like when I was a
kid, lots of bubbles."
I had to laugh about that. "Get dressed and go out and find the biggest,
noisiest bar in town. Be surrounded by people."
"Dance all night."
"Not all night." I mused. "You got to pick out your date before midnight,
or it's too late."
"Yeah?"
"And get her into a bed with soft sheets."
"Yeah," he agreed. "Then I'd really put it to her."
"Do it Terry," I answered in a soft voice. It had become part of the
game.
Our days were monotonous and uneventful. Two guys used to modern
entertainments were hungry for stimulation beyond that of survival. It
was easy to fall into this erotic fantasy, and it cost us nothing to help
the other imagined his fantasy, sometimes role-playing as we thought out
loud.
"I'd push it in nice and slow... and listen to her moan."
"Ohhhh," I groaned, playing my part for his sake, but also getting into
it a little as I imagined my friend shoving his sizeable dick into some
faceless girl. "Yeah, man, do it."
"Nice, long, slow pumps in and out. I'd make her feel every inch."
"I can feel it," I said. My hand grasped my prick and pumped it slowly.
By now Terry was doing the same. He had pulled his elastic down under his
balls and was jerking that long, fat dick of his.
"I might even make her beg for it. Come on baby, beg for it." Terry said.
"Yeah, I want it," I moaned in character, but I was getting lost in the
fantasy. The more times we played this game the easier it got for me to
play the role, and the easier it got for me to imagine it. I could never
let on to Terry what I was actually thinking when we did this.
"Beg me to fuck you hard, bitch." Terry said.
"Fuck me hard, Terry, fuck me hard," I said.
Terry said. "I'd cram this cock up her..."
"Ooh, God, fuck me!" I moaned.
"What..."
"Do it... Fuck me," I said, still in my dream-state.
"Are you being serious?" Terry asked.
"What... no... I... was... playacting," I stuttered.
"It sounded almost real," he challenged, but then he smiled. "We've
been doing this so long, maybe you really do want this big tool painting
your honey bucket. You want my fudge packer up your shit-pipe, is that
it?"
"Yeah, that's it," I tried to joke. "All this time on the island turned
me queer."
He just shrugged "I wish it did. I'm about ready to take what I can
get."
"You want to fuck me?" I said.
"We could... trade off or something," Terry offered.
"Shit," I guffawed. "You're the one who keeps saying we'll get
rescued."
"I could be wrong..." he trailed off.
"I'll make you a deal," I told him. "If I get a sign that we're
stuck here forever, and our only hope of survival is plugging each other
up the butt and repopulating the island... well... then I'll let you
fuck me."
He looked sadly at his drooping erection, and finally smiled, "Fair
enough."
Maybe there is a god. If there is, he has a really sick sense of humor.
It was less than a week later we saw the crate wash up on the beach. You
would have thought it was Christmas. We found whatever we could use to
pry open the crate, hoping it might contain packaged food, or clothing,
or maybe a cell phone. Once we popped open the lid we both just stood
there, staring blankly at the boxes inside.
"KY Jelly," he grunted. "There's got to be a thousand tubes of KY in
there."
"Shit," I sighed. "That's one fucked up sign."
"What do you mean?" he asked, and then he remembered. He looked at the
crate with at least 100 cases, each with at least 10 or twenty tubes of
lubricant, and then he looked at me. "If that ain't god's way of
saying I should be up your ass, I don't know what is."
"Fuck you," I mumbled.
"You first," he was smiling.
It didn't happen right away. First we had to pull the crate away from
the surf. Then we had a bite to eat and a quick wash-up in the stream.
Then I hemmed and hawed for a bit delaying the inevitable. At least it
felt inevitable.
"It seems like time you got yourself ready," Terry said.
He was only trying to break the ice, but he was right. So, I stripped
down and grabbed one of the KY tubes we'd brought back to camp. I
squirted some on my fingers and tried it on my pucker. My fingertip slid
inside me with no problem, and it sort of felt nice. So, I slid in a
little deeper and was surprised at how it felt. It wasn't exactly good
or bad, just different.
Terry grabbed another tube, but I stopped him. "Let me do it."
I couldn't say why, but this was how I wanted to do it. I wanted to get
him ready, so I spread a thick coat of the lube over his quickly growing
cock. I'd seen him erect enough times since we'd been wrecked that it
shouldn't have come as such a surprise just how big he was. Maybe it was
being able to compare the way it felt in my fist, against the way my own
would feel.
Once I had him slick I stretched out on the ground, and he climbed
between my legs. The sand was still warm from the sun, but I was
shivering. Slowly, gradually, incrementally, the thick crown of his cock
eased inside me. As my hole stretched around it, it occurred to me that
we were a world away from medical assistance, if this turned out not to
work.
It was in my own best interest to relax as much as possible, so I focused
on that, and eventually the knob popped through the tight muscle and the
strain of my skin stretching around his shaft had gone as far as it had
to. The rest went in relatively easy, but the feeling was even more
intense.
He was as good as his word. Once he was in me all the way, Terry began to
hump me in earnest. I had imagined this would be pleasurable for him, and
it was, but it would likely be a slow torture for me, or at best a task
to endure. Except, the experience was clearly sexual even for me, and I
felt that right from the start. As he moved inside me, it was like... no,
better than jerking myself off. It was two bodies joined in sex, and it
was the fantasy we had only played before.
The pleasure I resisted feeling suddenly surged into life, a plethora of
sensations washing over me at once. I was gasping and felt my cock pulse
hard against the sand.
"Oh, shit, it's happening, you bastard. I'm coming!"
"Do it," Terry crowed as he sawed into my bowels.
"I can't fuck you back, huh... guh..."
Terry had dug his feet into the sand, and he was fucking up into me,
sliding me across the beach with each plunge. I threw my head back and
groaned, and my cock squirted, soaking into the dry sand.
"I made you cum," Terry said proudly. "Now get... ungh...  ready, because
I'm going to make a whole bunch of babies
"Just fuck me," I gasped, still shooting my own load.
Terry's sperm was a hot blast into my bowels. It seared and soothed my
flesh as his dick carved a path inside me. I felt hollowed out, weak,
satisfied, and happy for the first time since we hit shore.
As the fierceness of Terry' volleys diminished, he lay across my back and
held me tight, his hands stroking my sides while the last tremors of lust
slowly faded.
"Man, that was hot," he said after we separated and resumed sitting on
our favorite rock.
"That was something," I said.
"You're not sorry?" he asked.
"Yeah I am," I answered, but then explained, "I'm sorry we waited."
"Me too," he agreed. "Umm... I don't really know if I can return the
favor..."
"Why am I not surprised," I chuckled. "I guess it's okay. You can
fuck me for as long as the KY holds out."
"Thanks man," then, after a short pause, "I wonder if this stuff is
edible."
I thought for a second. "Nah. Better not waste it."