Gay Erotic Stories

Day 1. We carried the last of the food from the wreckage of the lifeship just before it sank. A lush, subtropical forest filled with plants both strange and oddly familiar surrounded the lake. All life on the known planets was built from the same basic building blocks: the same proteins and the same basic double helix. This meant two things. Some of the life forms would be edible and some poisonous. We had about two weeks before our food ran out to figure out which was which. Then we’d have to start eating at random and hope for the best. Girard scowled at Richards. The lanky blond didn’t have to say that he thought Richards had fucked up the entry into the atmosphere. Hell, so did I, but that was old news two minutes after our—for want of a better word—landing. We needed to work together if we were to survive.

Day 7. The biggest life form we’ve seen so far is large reptile, not too different from a crocodile, but about 25 feet long. Its favorite food seems to be a giant froglike creature, about four and a half feet tall.--yeah, tall! Salmon colored with ears on the sides of their heads. They’re bipeds on land but they feed in the water, where they swim just like frogs. A little bowlegged when they walk on land, but quite graceful and fast in the water. All we’ve seen so far are females. I guess they’re amphibians, but they have small mounds on their chests and nipples. The littlest ones suckle from the adults in the water. They’re gentle and friendly, but a little skittish. Richards calls them Kermit’s. Girard spends a lot of time trying to make friends with them. I’m starting to wonder what they taste like.

Day 9. Richards is sick, he tried a fleshy root that reminded us of a sweet potato. He vomited his guts out and now has a temperature of at least 102. That probably means that it harbors a microorganism as well as being poisonous. I’ve been swabbing him down with cold compresses. I’d never seen the big muscular son of a bitch laid low before. I don’t know if he’s going to make it. That asshole Girard does nothing to help. He spends all his time down by the lake with the damn Kermit’s. He doesn’t even wear clothes anymore. He tries to mix in with the natives like some kind of Dian Fossey. They won’t let him get too close on land, but they let him swim among them in the water, even touch them. In the water, he’s a slow, clumsy oaf compared to them. In the water a mere man is nothing for them to fear.

Day 13. Richards came out of it okay. I had to take care of him like a quadriplegic for a few days. Feed him, hold his dick while he pissed, and wipe his ass. He’s still pretty weak. He’s also embarrassed about all the things I had to do for him, but grateful too. He figures he wouldn’t have made it without me. He’s probably right. Girard’s disappeared. I hope a crock ate the little son of a bitch. I found a little clearing in the jungle yesterday surrounding a small pool at the foot of a waterfall. After all the stress, I just pulled out my cock and jacked off. It was the first time since we’d landed. It seemed like I’d spilled a pint on the ground. I felt great.

Day 14. Richards and I decided to build a hut out of the thick bamboo-like reeds that grow at the edge of the lake. We don’t actually need one. The weather’s been absolutely perfect. The planet’s a fucking paradise. Still, we felt we’d better do something to keep us civilized. If you wanted to pick a place to be stranded, this’d be it. Of course, given the choice, I’d have picked a woman to be stranded with—instead of Girard. I’d even share her with Richards. We’re pretty close now. We depend on each other. I don’t think either one of us would make it for long without the other. Yeah, I’d share a woman with Richards any day. Meanwhile, we’d have to do something about the food situation. We decided we’d try to kill a Kermit tomorrow. We figure if we eat a just little, we’d only get a little sick if they turned out to be poisonous.

Day 15. Richards and I caught Girard fucking a Kermit this morning. We were cutting more of that bamboo stuff for the hut, when we heard the splashing. They were in a little opening in the reeds. Girard was really into it--humping and sucking on those teeny little tits. He saw us after they’d finished and he gave us a thumbs up. Later, he brought her up to the camp to see the hut we were building. She was very curious about it. They brought a huge fish the size of a small tuna. Girard said he’d been eating them for a week without any problems. The little weasel was always skulking around. He’d overheard us planning to kill a Kermit and wanted to stop us. Girard said we could get Kermit’s of our own to fuck if we’d just swim with them for a few days. We told him he was a pervert and we didn’t want to know what he did or hear about it afterward.

Day 18. Went out to my jackoff grove today and found it occupied. You can’t see anything until you come right upon it. Richards was standing in the sun buck naked in all his muscular glory. His hand was flailing away and his hand and groin were covered with a gooey greenish slime. Whoops. He looked at me stunned for a second, and then we both burst out laughing. He tossed me one of the gourds we call dildo-fruit because they’re shaped like big cocks. The green slime inside stinks, but it also makes a natural KY jelly. Wish I’d thought of it.

I turned to leave him in peace, but he said I should stay and do what I came for. It wasn’t like we didn’t know the other one was jacking off in the woods. No need to slink around about it. I decided he was right. I opened the groin seam of my flight suit and pulled out my tool. I cracked open a dildo-fruit and scooped out the jelly. We watched each other pull on our rods. It was funny, but it felt better than doing it alone. I noticed that Richards tool grew a lot more when it was hard than mine did. When I was washing him and helping him piss, I figured I had at least an inch on him. Now, I wasn’t so sure. We jack off very differently. I breathe heavily and go slow and silent until I come. He wanks it like a maniac, groaning and moaning all the way. Different strokes…

Day 24. We’ve settled into a comfortable rhythm. Girard and his frog "wife" bring us some lake food every day to keep us from eating her relatives--fish, shrimp, crayfish. So far it’s all been very good. After they go, Richards and I head off to our grove and waterfall. It’s a little silly. The hut’s nearly done and would give us all the privacy we need. But for some reason, we both prefer the little opening in the jungle. I followed Richards’ example and stripped down completely now. It feels more like real sex that way. I know this sounds strange, but it also helps to have another person there. We talk some about the women we’ve fucked and the ways we’ve done it. It doesn’t sound like much, but when it’s all you’ve got… Sometimes we have contests, like who can shoot the furthest (usually him) or spew the most (me).

Day 25. Something weird happened today. We went to our spot as usual. As we were getting it up, Richards commented that he started at a disadvantage in cock size but by the time we came, he had me beat. I of course told him that was horseshit. He might wind up giving me a good run for my money, but he never did and never would quite catch up. This went back and forth while we beat our meat. Of course, we paraded our cocks in front of one another the whole time, each claiming to be the champ. I said that since we didn’t have ruler, we’d never really know. Richards said that he knew how to settle it. He walked up to me and jabbed his cock into my crotch hairs, right next to my shaft. Now my cock angles up, so they weren’t exactly lined up. He grabbed my cock and pulled it down next to his own. My head wound up in his bush, just as his was in mine. It was a dead heat. But the instant Richards touched my cock; I knew I was a goner. I exploded big time all over his cock and groin. He helped me finish by stroking me with his hand.

When it was over, he said, “Shit man, I’m a mess. You’ve got to help me get clean.” I reached out to wipe the cum away, and he said, “No man, you’ve got to get me real clean.” He grabbed my hair and pulled me down to my knees. He pulled me forward until my face was buried in my own cum. I stuck out my tongue and began to lick. I knew what my cum tasted like, of course, but I was surprised to find that the smelly dildo-fruit jelly tasted just as good (and not all that different). I worked his belly and down into his crotch. All that was left was on his shaft. I hesitated. Richards said that he had finished me off, so I owed him one.

I grabbed the shaft and began licking it. When I reached the piss slit, he grabbed my head and pushed it into my mouth. God help me I took it and ran my mouth up and down the shaft. When the cockhead pressed against the back of my gullet, I tried to mimic the whore who had given me my best blowjob ever. I opened the back of my throat and took it in. Trying not to choke and fighting down vomit, I worked that rod for a good five minutes. I found myself hard again and stroked my own cock with my right hand.

Richards was his usual exuberant self. “Suck it man! Take it! Oh, you’re good! You are one good cocksucker!” When he finally blew his load, I sucked it down and dumped my own load on the ground. When we were done, we took a swim. I was embarrassed, but he said it was no big deal. It was just the situation. Like prison. I said, “Yeah, but his situation didn’t involve a cock in his mouth. He replied, …yet.

Day 26. Yesterday was awkward. It’s strange to be working next to a buddy that you’ve just finished sucking off. But today, Richards was as good as his word. The minute we got to the pool, he started by sucking me off. I don’t think he quite as good at it as I am, but it felt great anyway. Once he had done it to me I didn’t feel so uncomfortable about what happened yesterday. When I went to return the favor I hardened up again. This time we were lying down and he eased himself around to a 69 position. I’ll tell you, it’s a hell of a lot different when both partners are doing exactly the same thing.

I was never that big into muff diving, but this…this was something I could do all day. And it seemed like we did. He held back and I was on my second round. We slobbered all over each other’s crotches for a good half hour. There wasn’t any pretense of just getting it off. We grabbed each other’s asses and moaned and said things when we pulled for a breath. When we had each drained the last drop from the other, I spun around and faced him. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled it toward mine. I pressed my lips against his and jabbed my tongue into his mouth. Richards was a little taken aback. I understood. Sucking cock is one thing, but kissing a man is definitely intimate--a second later a felt his tongue in my mouth.

Day 33. It’s been a great week. We’re both very good at cocksucking now. The best on the whole damn planet! Today, however, Richards started slow, licking my chest and pinching my nipples. He pulled my hands around onto his butt cheeks then grabbed mine. He asked if I’d ever taken a woman up the ass. Sometimes, I answered. Mostly, they’re not into it. When you get one who is, it’s the jackpot. It was pretty clear where this was leading. But who would be doing whom? I wasn’t sure I was ready for anything up my ass. “It’s time you fucked me,” he said. Whew. I eased him down on his knees. Those two muscular hams loomed in my face. Life was pretty easy, but Richards kept in shape using homemade weight equipment. I buried my face in the crack. We probably should have bathed in the pool first. He was pretty ripe. I used my tongue to clean up around his asshole. He squirmed and moaned. I plunged it in as deep as it would go and he practically howled. After he was lubed with my spit, I slathered on the fruit lube. I pushed a finger against the opening. Nothing. I pushed harder and he pushed back. The iris spread and swallowed my digit. Working it around led to more loud expressions of satisfaction. I worked in two, then three, getting him used to the sensation. I lubed up my dick with the jelly, and knelt behind him. I placed the head against the puckered opening and pushed hard. He let out a howl as I went in.

I didn’t stop but went all the way on the first thrust. I stopped until his cramps were gone then began banging him in earnest. I didn’t care if I hurt him. I had my cock inside something soft and warm for the first time in months. He was screaming how it hurt. How I shouldn’t stop. How hot I was. “Fuck me. Fuck me harder!” It was then that we heard a loud cackle.

Girard and his mate were watching from the trailhead. “Fuck off Girard,” I told him.

“So I’m the pervert,” he said. “At least I fuck females, and nothing fucks me!”

“Forget him!” Richards said. “Finish fucking me. Do it right. Do it thorough”. And that’s exactly what we did. Our audience stayed and watched the entire encounter. The Kermit seemed especially curious at what we were doing. It scampered up and poked its face into the action. I swiped hard at it with my hand and it leaped back to a safe distance, a good 25 feet on one jump. Somehow, it didn’t matter that we were being watched. Maybe it made it better. Anyway, I unloaded in a volume that was substantial even for me. It leaked out of Richards’ ass big time. He hadn’t cum yet, so I decided to give them another show.

I rolled him over and went down on him. I intended to give them a long demonstration, but Richards was so hot he came almost at once. I turned around to face Girard, but he was already pushing his way back through the foliage. “Adios, faggots,” he called. The Kermit came scampering back, tilted its head curiously, and then followed its master down the trail.

Day 34. I let Richards fuck me today. It was tolerable. I certainly maintained a hardon throughout. I was stroking myself, planning to come along with him, but he asked me not to. When he was finished, he turned around and I fucked him back. I tried to go easy this time, but he demanded it hard. So I gave it to him. He said he likes it better on the bottom. Suits me. When we got back, we found Girard waiting. He was all bummed out. His Kermit has disappeared. He blames us. Says we freaked the frog out. The big trouble is we now have to feed ourselves. The dildo-fruit jelly is edible, but it gets a little monotonous.

Day 48. Girard is certifiable. Not only can’t he find his frog, he can’t get another. They won’t give him the time of day--maybe because they don’t have watches. Anyway, they kick him away if he even tries to swim with him. He follows us to the grove and jerks off while watching us. Been there. Done that. When we got back to the hut, the Kermit was back. Something was different about it, but it was definitely Girard’s frog. I don’t how I knew, but I did.

Once it was sure we’d seen it the beast began heading back toward the lake in a series of fantastic leaps. Girard chased after it. For some reason, Richards and I followed. When we reached the edge, they were already thrashing around in the water. Girard tried to move the creature into a fuck position, when he suddenly let out a wail. Something long and straight stuck out of the water—a Kermit cock. It was at least 16 inches that showed and a few more inches were under water. The native reversed position on Girard and rammed its tool hard into the man—just as it had seen me do to Richards.

Girard howled, but he was larger and had the advantage in the shallow water. He managed to ‘dis-impale’ himself and splashed toward the shore. He slipped and Kermit pounced, dragging him out into the deeper water. We heard rather than saw the re-lancing of our crewmate. “What the fuck’s going on?” Richards demanded.

“I think our friend out there just changed sex,” I replied. “A number of amphibians on earth can do that. And the male keeps its cock inside until it needs it. I think the Kermit really loves Girard. It saw what we were doing and decided that is how Earthlings are supposed to fuck.” We watched from the shore for the next hour. They submerged for long periods, coming up only long enough for the man to catch his breath and scream.

“Can’t it tell that its hurting him?” Richards asked.

“Uh huh,” I replied. “It’s heard you being plugged!”

Day 63. Girard cowers near the hut every day. After being dragged into the lake while trying to fish—and had his brains fucked out once again—Girard refuses to go near the water. Now a whole crowd of Kermits comes and drags him off to the lake every few days. We don’t try to stop them--partly because we couldn’t if we wanted to--partly because they leave fish behind for us. Mostly, though, it’s because we just don’t like him.

Comments can be sent to MGW at mgw@gay.com.