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Gilligan's Island Days Revisited
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Island Days Revisited - Part 1
It was already quite warm on the island as Gilligan made his way
to the falls. He hurried quickly through the lush undergrowth,
avoiding the tangled roots and long fronds as best he could.
His quarry was only a few dozen yards ahead of him and he did
not wish to alert her, lest his game be found out. The growth
thinned out in front of him as he approached a clearing in the
jungle. He dropped to his hands and knees and quickly scuffled
forward until he could clearly view the scene spread out before
him.
A large pool of clear water was fed by a small waterfall that
cascaded off a basalt wall. From midmorning until early
afternoon the sun shown into an alcove formed by the vegetation
on either side of the exit stream and the wall at the back.
Across the pool from Gilligan a small trail opened onto the
sandy shore of the pool where a small sign proclaimed the
castaways name for the place, "Falls Pool." It was done in
Gilligan's best script and attached to a bamboo signpost. They'd
all hoped at the time to alert potential rescuers to their
presence and to make the island a bit more like home.
Farther down that trail there was another sign, larger and more
utilitarian. "OCCUPIED" it said, and on most days that meant
stay away for the falls were being used for bathing. Usually
Gilligan respected the wishes of both the sign and the
'occupant,' scrupulously in fact, as Gilligan had no desire to
be walked in on himself. However, his scruples were in a
losing battle with his curiosity today, the argument continuing
even as he lay at the edge of the pool looking out across the
water. "No, it's not right." "Yes, do it, she won't know so she
won't care." "I wouldn't want her to do that to me." "Yes you
would, besides you're not as beautiful, if you were you would."
"Yes, well, maybe, but she's not that type. "What type? She's
young, beautiful and . . ."
Standing right there.
His thoughts were interrupted as Mary Ann stepped onto the
beach. Gilligan froze, fearful that she'd heard him muttering
under his breath, fearful that she'd see the whites of his eyes
though he'd muddied the rest of his face the color of the shore,
fearful that he'd lose his head and make a crashing retreat
through the jungle out onto the beach and into the sea, to die
of embarrassment on the reef beyond.
However she paused only to kick her sandals off her tan feet and
adjust her satchel before walking onto the damp sand near the
base of the falls. Gilligan closed his eyes tight and slowly
breathed to ten before opening them again.
She was just hanging her satchel on the small clothes rack
Gilligan had built for the others and the edge of the pool.
Mary Ann removed the ribbon holding her hair in the tails she
wore when cooking. Gilligan smiled as it made a dark cascade to
her upper back. She'd been letting it grow during their stay on
the island and he found it a pleasure to look at as the weeks
and months passed by.
Turning towards the falls, she then quickly undid her calico
halter top, freeing her breasts to the air. Gilligan's breath
caught as he imagined holding them, each golden mound nestled
perfectly in his hands, stroking the darker nipples with his
thumbs. Somewhere in his quickly addling brain, Gilligan noted
that her breasts were not as pale as he thought they'd be. He
continued to watch as she undid the button of her denim shorts
and shimmied them off her hips. Gilligan, somewhat embarrassed
at himself, felt his penis growing uncomfortably large in his
own cutoffs as she bent to step quickly from her shorts. A worn
pair of white panties cut smoothly underneath her firm belly,
opaque but not entirely concealing the dark hair underneath. As
she turned to hang her halter and shorts on the rack behind her,
Gilligan noted that her panties cupped the firm curves of her
ass and seemed to emphasize the slight groove nestled between
them. He turned slightly onto his side to relieve the pressure
on his penis and to allow his fingers the freedom to stroke up
and down the still hardening shaft.
Mary Ann waded into the pool towards Gilligan. The water was
clear and he could see her toes against the dark sand of the
bottom. Arms slightly spread for balance, her breasts jiggling
slightly with each step, she waded knee deep in the pool before
stopping. Looking over her shoulder, Mary Ann appeared to
listen for sound behind her as she slipped her fingers under the
thin strap of her panties and slipped them down her thighs. She
did this slowly, being careful not to overstretch the material.
Bending, she brought each leg carefully up and out, never once
letting the material meet touch the pool bottom. It was an
interesting ritual, one that Gilligan later concluded saved Mary
Ann the suffering associated with sand in one's shorts. An
affliction common among the island's inhabitants. Presently, he
watched her breasts sway with her movements as she carefully
washed the panties in the clear water. Standing upright to
examine her job, Gilligan watched each drop of water as they
rolled down her forearms onto her firm belly and down into her
thin dark pubic hair. Through the thin strands he could see
where the dark lips of her labia met. He groaned as he thought
of sliding his finger along that smooth junction and feeling
them give around him. He felt dizzy as he looked from her face
to her breasts down to her mons and back, touching and stroking
each spot lightly in his imagination.
Seemingly satisfied with her inspection, Mary Ann turned and
walked back to the beach. Her hips swaying slightly with each
step she walked across the sand to a branch and hung her panties
from the very tip where the sun could dry them. Taking down her
satchel she opened it and took out a small sponge and a small
bottle of liquid attached to a cord. Putting the strap around
her neck she entered the water and made her way out to where the
falls hit the surface of the pool. Stopping at the edge of the
drizzle she unscrewed the top and poured the slightly syrupy
liquid into her palm. Quickly rubbing her hands together she
generated a thin lather which she then spread across her arms
and torso, her body glistening under the soapy mixture.
Gilligan swallowed hard and began stroking his straining penis
as he watched her smooth the soap onto her belly, brushing up
underneath each breast and then down the curve of her ass.
Capping the bottle she took the sponge and rubbed it in firm
strokes over her arms, across her stomach, on her back and
between her breasts. Leaning against the cliff wall she
scrubbed each leg in turn before letting the sponge loose to
float free in the water.
Gilligan was breathing hard, fighting to keep his pleasure in
check until Mary Ann was done. He alternately stroked his cock
firmly then lightly, always staying just on the edge of orgasm,
not wanting to diminish the intensity of his reaction to any
delights to come. His plan soon had it's reward as Mary Ann
walked away from the wall, almost into the falls and then
paused, looked to the trail again, and then raised her hands to
her breasts.
Gilligan's breath and hand stopped short as her hands slipped up
around each breast. She turned to face the sun as her hands
began to glide around the skin of her breasts. Her eyes closed
as her left hand stroked underneath one soft globe while the
other circled above, straying from cleavage to nipple, stroking
down her stomach and back up. Her mouth opened slightly and she
began to breath deeply as she continued, gradually moving to
stroking each breast simultaneously, her thumbs stroking her
nipples into tight dark caps. Gilligan's world shrunk to the
sight in front of him. Pulling his shorts up over his cock to
prevent himself from cumming, he rolled onto his stomach and
began to firmly press his rod into the firm sand beneath him.
Images of stroking between her breasts flooded his mind and he
froze, unable to move for fear of losing the last bit of control
he had.
Mary Ann's right hand made firm spirals down her belly until it
her fingertips began to stroke the soft hair of her pubic mound.
She shifted slightly so that her thighs were slightly apart,
allowing her access to her vulva. Pressing her palm firmly
against her mons she brought two fingers down to either side of
her fat labia and began a slight stroking motion. Her breathing
became ragged as her strokes became firmer and a third finger
joined the others, pressing into her slick groove until it was
cupped by her wet pink flesh. Gilligan's hips started
involuntarily humping the ground as he watched hers press
outwards against her hand, her knees shaking. Small cries
escaped her throat and she brought her middle finger up to her
clit and began rubbing fiercely. Gilligan began to come then,
unable to control his thrusting jet after jet of hot come pulsed
up from his groin and out against his belly and the sand. He
stared through unfocused eyes as Mary Ann gave a strangled cry,
her knees buckled and hips spasmodically thrust against her
hand. She managed to hold herself up as her spasms passed, and
then slowly knelt into the water and then rolled onto her back,
floating peacefully with the sky reflected around her. Gilligan
looked for awhile more at her angelic form and then lay his head
down and fell into an exhausted sleep
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