Gilligan's Island

It was to be but a three hour tour out from Pearl Harbor and around the surrounding islands. Small white puffy clouds dotted the deep blue of the sky as S.S. Minnow, crew and passengers departed without any fan-fare. The Skipper held the wheel in his steady hands guiding the small vessel around much smaller vessels and avoiding anything larger than they. Half an hour later the tiny yacht escaped the confines of the busy harbor and soon the swells of deep water rocked the boat.

“Gilligan,” the Skipper hollered through the open hatch leading below decks. “Get your skinny butt up here and give me a hand. There’s a squall line coming up and I want everything shipshape before the blow hits us.”

By now the seas were becoming more pronounced as larger and larger waves crashed over the bow spreading green foamy froth along the teak wood deck. As the tiny ship began being tossed on the every increasing sea a homely face poked up from the open hatch, the head covered by an upside down sailors ‘Dixie’ cup hat. To call him ugly would have been cruel, but he wasn’t anywhere near what could be called handsome.

“OK, Skipper, what should I do first?” Gilligan asked timidly. The pair had been together for so long neither could remember just how they came to become what could loosely be called a team.

“Dang it Gilligan,” the Skipper groaned smacking the skinny young man with his captains hat, “make sure all the hatches are secured and the passengers are wearing their life vests. Oh, yeah, pay special attention to the Howell’s. He’s got money enough to buy a thousand boats like this with just pocket change.”

“Sure thing, Skipper, I mean Aye, Aye captain.” Gilligan had quickly amended his words not wanting another smacking of the Skipper’s hat since it was now sodden from the salt water spray and he knew it would really hurt. “Hey everybody,” Gilligan announced after slipping on the wet ladder and coming to rest on the deck. “Skipper says to batten down the hatches and get ready for a storm. Oh, yeah, he said put on your life jackets. I wonder why he said that?” the skinny young lad wondered aloud.

“Gilligan, Gilligan,” came the harsh cries from above. “Get your skinny good for nothing worthless butt up here and help me. Here, take the wheel while I check the engine. It’s been running real rough and I can’t trust you,” the Skipper complained.

Gilligan grasped the wheel as the Skipper moved and skidded his way towards the engine room hatch. He was half way down the steep ladder when the tiny ship was tossed. The hatch cover banged his head and he went down hard and heavy just as his overly large fat laden body deserved just as the diesel engine died. The wheel was ripped from Gilligan’s hands spinning around and around until nobody could have guessed their direction. Below decks the passengers were tossed about knocking all of the unconscious. In the tiny cockpit Gilligan was finally overwhelmed, his head smacking the edge surrounding him and the darkness quickly engulfed his as well.

The sky was a brilliant blue dotted with puffs of white clouds as the sun warmed the tiny ship. There wasn’t much left of the valiant craft that had just weathered a most severe tropical storm as it lay beached, the bow deeply imbedded in the soft sand. Birds began their morning chirping ritual and slowly arousing the now to known cast-a-ways. It was the Professor to be first to awaken, gently shake his head and look about the jumbled mess of a cabin. He looked about and saw the Howell’s heaped together in a tangle of legs and arms and still quite unconscious. The same was true for the two other passengers, Ginger and Maryanne. As he began to regain some of his senses Maryanne stirred.

“Wha, what happened?” she asked with a slightly fearful voice.

“Without having time to look about,” the Professor began, “off hand I would say we’ve become shipwrecked, marooned on some small spit of and island,” he replied with the voice of authority. His gaze was looking towards the now open hatch and failed to see the how she had ended.

Maryanne took stock of herself and found nothing more than a few slight bruises. Other than that she was fine except for her somewhat skimpy blouse. Not only were all the buttons ripped off, but it was very open and exposing her very naked breasts of which she was blessed with an abundance. While being from Kansas and modest to most, Maryanne was none the less very proud of her body. She quickly pulled together the ripped halves and covered herself as best she could and noticed, with some small chagrin, that he hadn’t even noticed.

“Hello down there,” came the call from above decks. “Is everybody alright?” Gilligan poked his head inside and found only the Professor and Maryanne awake.

“Yes, I do believe we are none the worse for wear,” replied the Professor in his usual academic manner. “You might want to check on the others, however,” he continued. “By the looks of things they should be just fine. Now, where are we?” he asked.

“I don’t know, besides, why ask me? I’m just a deck hand. You’ll have to ask the Skipper, well, when he wakes up that is.”

Gilligan carefully made his way down the steps of the sloping ladder slipping several times before finally standing inside the cabin. He saw the young Maryanne sitting up while she held her blouse close, then went to check on Ginger. She was laying in what looked to be a comfortable position in spite of all the tossing about of the tiny ship. Her ankle length sheath dress that had so tightly covered her very tall form was torn in several places. The slit up one side had expanded upwards and now exposed all of one leg nearly showing her, well, what was normally easily hidden area of her body. The bodice of her gown, cut low enough to expose her bust and enticing cleavage, rose and fell with each breath she took. Gilligan’s eyes became transfixed on her bosom before he remembered the Howell’s. Mr. Howell looked to be resting peacefully, his eyes closed and his breathing slow yet regular. Mrs. Howell, on the other hand, wasn’t so well disposed. While being in her early fifties, she exuded a sensuality about her when awake and now that she was still unconscious she was absolutely lovely, or so he thought.

Dressed in a linen skirt that was now drawn up nearly to her crotch with a matching jacket, she looked so much younger than her years. The jacket was open and Gilligan saw her still damp silk blouse that was now almost shear enough to see through. He was able to see enough to know her bra was well filled, covered with lace and very erotic as the swell of her breasts all but overflowed the very small cups containing her breasts. A slight breeze wafted through the cabin causing her nipples to thicken and swell as the poked at the thin material covering them.

Maryanne hadn’t said a word as she watched Gilligan inspecting the passengers. She couldn’t put a finger on it, but she found him very attractive and sexually stimulating. Her nature beauty was in deep contrast to his homeliness, his so very skinny body, yet still it was more than enough to arouse her. She thought it best, at least for the time being, to keep her desires quite and wait to see what might happen.

“Gilligan,” came the weak voice from above. “Oh my aching head,” the Skipper lamented as his deck hand appeared. “Ah there you are little buddy. How are the others? Anybody hurt?”

“Naw,” Gilligan replied slowly. “Just all bunched up like little kittens,” he smiled.

“OK, now where the heck are we? Oh, why do I ask you,” he relented to himself. “Let’s get everybody ashore and take stock of things. Speaking of stock, you did replenish the galley?” the Skipper asked questionably already knowing the answer.

“Aw geez, Skipper. We set sail so fast I sort of forgot. Hey look,” he pointed. “Coconut trees. I’ll bet we can find bananas, too.” Gilligan was desperate to keep from receiving another of the Skipper’s famous captains hat beatings. He quickly beat a hasty retreat as the Skipper doffed his hat and swiped at him and missing.

Supper that first night on the island consisted of what little Maryanne and Ginger could find in the galley. While not the Waldorf-Astoria, it filled their bellies. The sun had settle below the horizon and it was quickly becoming dark. The temperature cooled and since all their clothing was still damp they became chilled. Gilligan and the Skipper hauled out comfortable cushions from the cabin along with canvas from the hold. They brought all the gear ashore and with the help of the Professor constructed a make-shift temporary camp.

“I say,” Mr. Howell began saying. “Do you really expect Mrs. Howell and myself to sleep in such primitive accommodations? After all, there seems to be no butler to addend to my needs nor a chamber maid for my wife. Captain, Skipper, I must protest in the strongest of words at our treatment. Never have we been subjected to such unworthy actions. I won’t stand for it, no, I won’t tolerate such treatment. I insist you do something worthy of Thurston Howell III.”

“Yes, what he said,” Mrs. Howell chimed in with her words.

“Come, Lovey, we’ll seek better accommodations elsewhere.”

“Uh, Mr. Howell,” the Professor spoke. “I’m afraid what you see here is the best you’ll find for tonight at least. I think the Skipper and Gilligan are doing all they can to make us as comfortable as possible. Perhaps you should reconsider.”

“Yes, quite right young man,” Mr. Howell agreed after truly assessing the situation. “Come Lovey, we’ll retire to this corner.” With that he escorted his lovely wife away from the rest.

Now only the small fire set into the sand surrounded by driftwood shed a glow of the only light to be found for miles. Ginger moved closer to the Professor and held his arm.

“Professor, I’m frightened. I’ve played many parts in Hollywood of people stranded on deserted islands but I never thought it would be for real. Will you stay close and keep me company and protect me from the wild vicious animals?” She squeezed his arm tightly and pressed her body to his.

“Uh, well, that is, yes Ginger. I’ll make sure you’re safe but trust me when I say there are no vicious wild animals in this part of the South Seas.”

“Are you really sure?” she asked seductively.

“Well, fairly certain,” he replied feeling her one breast pressing firmly to his arm. “Of course one can never be all that certain. Yes, I think it best you keep very close to me.” The Professor couldn’t help but feel her physical charms working on him as suddenly he found the crotch of his pants much to tight.

The Howell’s kept to themselves and did the Skipper and Gilligan. Only Maryanne was left alone but she didn’t mind. Cold, damp and very frightened she huddled to herself knowing she had to protect her one remaining value, her virginity and these men were making her nervous.

“Professor, Professor,” Ginger whispered nudging his side.

“Huh, uh what,” came his sleepy answer.

“I have to go, you know, visit the ladies room. Will you come with me just to make sure nothing happens?”

He grunted and rolled his body upright taking her hand. Ginger rose with all the elegance she could muster under the circumstances and followed him. About a hundred yards away he showed her to a clump of tall bushes instructing her this was the bathroom. The Professor politely turned his back as Ginger raised her gown and squatted. She voided and the sound was loud in the jungle stillness.

“I’m finished,” Ginger said softly. “Would you give me a hand with standing?”

The Professor, deep in thought of their plight, shook his head and turned. There he saw her still squatting, her gown pulled up enough for him to see her sleek thighs in the pale moonlight. He extended his arm and she took his hand to stand. Suddenly her body lurched to one side and she would have fallen had he not reached out and grasped her. The two became frozen in time as Ginger felt his hand firmly upon one breast. An electric shock coursed through her body and suddenly her breathing became labored.

“Oh, uh, well I’m sorry,” the Professor stammered as she stood upright.

“I’m not,” Ginger cooed sweetly moving her hand over his trapping it to her breast. “It’s been a long time since any of my leading men have been so bold as to touch my body. I’ve missed the feeling. Please, don’t stop now.”

Seconds later they were engaged in a full body contact embrace their lips searching with wanton desire. The Professor’s hand was still clutching Ginger’s breast as their mouths clung tightly together. Tongue found tongue and they dueled with all the subtlety of two people with swords, probing, lunging each seeking a weakness in the other until both surrendered to the inevitable. Groin to groin they pressed hard, moving towards who knew what, but they both knew.

“Oooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, yyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeesssssssssssssssss,” Ginger gasped when their lips finally parted. “I like a man to take me as he wants and be rough. Take me tiger and do what you will. It’s been so long and I need a man.”

The Professor roughly ground his groin to hers feeling his rising desire and needs. His hand tightened it’s grip of her breast, squeezing it and pressing it hard to her chest. Ginger’s fingers rapidly moved down between them searching for and finding the zipper of his pants. Deftly she pulled it down only to jam her hand inside his pants and find his now rock hard pulsing hot organ. She knew nothing could stop her now as she carefully exposed him to the cool night air, her fingers tightly curled around his shaft. Her body slipped down lower until she was resting comfortably on her knees, his pulsing organ before he open lips. Without words she engulfed him taking well over half of his seven inch member. The Professor groaned and hunched his hips to her greedy face, lip and mouth. Instantly he felt the bulging head touching her throat as she milked his manhood.

If not the greatest actress on Hollywood, Ginger was at least very accomplished at giving head. Well, it was to be expected. It’s wasn’t just because she had blown so many producers and writers trying to get whatever parts she could, but Ginger truly loved to give oral pleasure to men. While her acting might not have been all that good, her lips and mouth would have won her an Academy Award if one were to ever be presented for oral sex. Rumor had it she could suck a golf ball through a half inch hose fifty feet long.

“Awwwwwwwwwwww, Ginger, stop,” the Professor gasped.

“Am I hurting you Professor,” Ginger asked fearfully.

“Not in the least, but if you don’t stop I’m going to climax and it’s not your mouth I want.”

He helped her to stand and turn around. His fingers easily found and slipped the zipper of her gown down to just above her buttocks. The Professor slipped the garment from her shoulders and down her body until it lay in a heap at her feet. Ginger stepped from the mound and turned to face him. Only her wispy panties were between him and her totally naked body. He gazed with lust at her luscious naked breasts as the moved rapidly up and down in time with her quick breathing. His fingers slipped inside the waistband of her panties and quickly tugged them over her sensual hips, down her slender longs sexy legs and finally to her feet. Ginger moved her legs apart allowing his eyes to seek and find her shaven sex as his fingers deftly moved upward to touch it. With his first touch her body stiffened then shuddered as a mild climax erupted. The touch of his finger slipping inside, his tongue lapping the swollen center of her sex brought yet another climax. Again and again he teased her with his fingers and tongue bringing about several orgasms before he finally stopped.

“Ginger, though out my academic career I’ve never found a woman I desire as much as I desire you,” he panted opening and slipping off his pants. The buttons of his shirt flew in all directions when he pulled open the front and cast it aside. Standing in all his naked glory complete with throbbing organ stiffly in front of him the Professor pulled her to his arms. The stiffness below his waist slipped between her legs, the shaft feeling the heat and wetness of her body as his hands again found her naked breasts. His fingers curled into her flesh digging deeply into the pliant flesh. He felt her nipples swell to the hardness of rocks in his palms.

“Take me Professor,” she exclaimed with wanton lust. “Don’t be gentle. Take my breasts in your hands and crush them. Feel my nipples, rub them, roll them around, suck them hard and make me feel the pain. Throw my body on the ground and take me. Ravish my breasts and suck them hard. Bite my sensitive nipples and make me climax. Feel the heat of my sex and take it. Fill me with your hot hard manhood and give me you seed. I want your body in me. I want you to do what you want with me even to the point of raping me. Now, Professor, take me any way you want.”

Her words enflamed him to the breaking point as he roughly shoved her to the ground. Ginger’s legs spread and lifted in an open invitation and the Professor obliged her. With the first attempt his pulsing organ found and entered her body she being more than wet enough. Before either could have know he was buried fully and deeply inside her feeling her wet burning heat. After but a moment to reflect their bodies began moving. His hips rising and falling as hers met his thrusts. Ginger was deep in the throws of passionate sex while the Professor was giving into his repressed sexual desires. Throughout their love making both made loud sounds, enough to wake one sleep person.

Maryanne heard the not normal sounds and crept silently closer. Her eyes went wide as she witnessed the Professors rock hard organ plunging hard and deep into Gingers wet and willing sex. As they came closer to mutual orgasm she felt the hot tingling between her legs and moved a hand to relive the need. The body movements of the couple increased and she knew they were close to orgasm as he felt hers approaching. Finally Gingers grimaced and groaned as her body became rigid for a few moments. The Professor did the same, stopping his hips from plunging his organ into her body, then both resumed with humping and pumping. Moments later the release was obvious as the slowed and began to relax. Maryanne quickly retreated not wishing to be found spying. As she re-entered the makeshift camp her eyes cast themselves upon the slumbering form of Gilligan.

While she knew him to be homely yet far from ugly, there was something about him she liked. Yeah, he was a bumbling inept deck hand but was just about the nicest person she had ever known. From all she had heard from girlfriends back home in Kansas it was the homely skinny guys that always seemed to have the best and most equipment hidden inside their pants. She, of course, didn’t have any first hand knowledge, but wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity especially since it looked like they might be marooned for quite some time. Her virginity still intact Maryanne decided it would be the most unlikely of men to have it, namely the one named Gilligan.

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Some of you readers will likely remember the T.V. series of Gilligan’s Island. Many, I’m sure, will also remember with disgust at having to forced to watch the re-runs. I’ve always liked the original series and dearly love the re-runs. I also hold a very special place in my heart and mind for Bob Denver from the first time seeing him as Maynard G. Krebs in the old Dobie Gillis series. If you don’t recall that series or the ‘Gilligan’s Island’, then I feel sorry for all you have missed. Bob Denver was a marvelous actor and, in my opinion, without equal for his talents. I’m not sure if he is still alive and if my reference to him the past tense is in error, I apologize.