Gilligan's Island Or How We Stopped

That night, as I lie on nice clean sheets from the Minnow, I was surrounded by the smell of fresh cut grass from my new mattress, the old ones from the Minnow were mildewed. The new mattress was on a rather creaky bunk made from bamboo and strung with rope.

I was rapidly soaking my clean sheets with sweat as I lay there naked in the heat and humidity, not a hint of breeze coming through the windows or doorway to cool my sweating body. Without a breeze to rustle the palms it was quiet enough that I could hear the soft murmur of the surf on the reef. Thank God there didn't seem to be any mosquitoes or other biting insects on the island as I had been unable to come up with anything to make screens or mosquito nets.

The incident with Maryann was praying on my mind as I gently stroked my hardening dick, thinking about the feel of her tight little ass pressed against it. Damnit, I had to think of a way to get into those tight shorts she was always wearing. There was no way that little bitch was as innocent as she appeared to be.

It's funny, I thought, it's only here, in this isolated bit of nowhere that I seem to be happy, or at least not actively unhappy anyway, and that makes for a change. Well, living here might not be such a bad thing after all. I was far away from all those damned busybodies, always prying into things which did not concern them, so persistent in their lack of imagination and intelligence.

Their officious meddling forcing me move on and start over, again and again. First forced from my position as an associate professor at Vassar, and having to take a subordinate position at that cow collage in the Midwest. Each time, I was forced to take a lower status position, ruining the cozy relationships I had built up with those beautiful girls in my classes.

I stroked my dick faster as I remembered Jane and her mother Helen, they had been the last ones, before I had had to leave town so quickly. Jane had been a junior in one of my classes at that wretched high school in northern New Jersey; unable to keep up with the class work, her mother was anxious the dumb little blond would get a passing grade so she could stay on the cheer squad with those other blond bimbos, why are they always blond, I wondered. Setups of that sort just didn't come more perfect. The memory of sinking my dick into that muscular little bitch's sweet pussy, no virgin her, while her fat assed mother sucked on my balls was enough to send me over the edge as I stroked faster and faster, my hand flying up and down my dick, slick with pre-cum. My ass clinched and my hips arched as wad after wad of cum spewed from my pulsing dick, splashing onto my chest and stomach, one wad even landing on my chin, my tongue snaking out to claim it.

As my muscles relaxed after the orgasm I heard a soft rustle outside. Glancing at the window I was in time to see someone silhouetted as they turned to leave. Damn, Howell, of all people, and it looked like he was buck naked. I smiled. Well, well, if that wasn't food for thought I don't know what is. This could make any scheme I came up with to get at the girls, even Mrs. Howell, what does Howell call her... ah yes, Lovey, more... feasible, as I do believe it is quite possible Howell will be an ally if properly manipulated. Perhaps some sort of phased approach? Well, perchance it well come to me as I sleep. Ah to sleep, perchance to dream. I thought sleepily, totally relaxed after my orgasm.

* * *

I slowly moved back from the window, my body still shaky from the orgasm after I ejaculated on the wall of the hut. I couldn't see the Professor's face, as it was in deep shadow, but I don't think he heard when my prick brushed against the hut wall as I was stroking it. My God, the man was magnificent, and his prick, why, it must be at least eight or nine inches long! And what a lot of cum. The sight of it made my mouth water, and thinking about it made my prick stiffen again so it was now waving in the warm night air, leading the way as I hurried back to our hut, my bare feet making no sound in the soft sandy soil. I couldn't help but wonder if he, but no, still... perhaps I could get Lovey to help. I knew she had her sights set on Ginger; however, she'd told me just a couple of days ago she had seen the Professor bathing in the stream down by the beach and thought she might make a run at him as well. Well, a ménage a trois would be nice. Much as it had been at home with Pablo and Lovey, or Maria and Pablo for that matter. So what if she was his sister, some money and a not so veiled threat of the INS had taken care of any dispute.

My prick was still nice and hard as I slipped into our hut and made my way to where Lovey was laying on the bed, naked in the sultry night air. Her fair skin shown like silver in the bright moonlight streaming in from the window as it fell full on her, giving me a most satisfying view of her still very trim thirtyish body. She was laying on her back with her legs spread, no doubt to catch any cooling breeze, as well as give her fingers access to her sweet twat. The plump lips of her lovely slit were peeking through the thatch of thick curly hair between her legs. Hair which would match the color of her golden-brown mane spread over the pillow if it were sunlight rather than pale moonlight illuminating her. Her large, grapefruit sized, breasts were somewhat flattened, but the fat, thick nipples were very prominent, set slightly off center on the dark, silver dollar sized areoles.

I stopped at the foot of our new bed, a little lumpy but... acceptable, stroking my prick for a bit as I watched her, legs spread wide with a couple of fingers up her cute slit. I carefully crawled onto the bed and between her legs until I was nuzzling the hair covering her sweet twat. Working around her fingers I gently licked her slit from bottom to top, giving her clit an extra flick that made her hips twitch. Then, gently extracting her fingers and licking her sweet elixir from them, I started tonguing the protruding dark inner lips, softly sucking them in my mouth then running my tongue up and down them. Lovey's eyelids fluttered as my tongue did it's work.

I raised up to my knees and positioned myself, then as slowly as I could, I slid my prick into her sweet snatch, her eyes flying open when I hit bottom. She smiled sleepily up at me as I started to thrust in earnest. Her hips begin moving in synchrony with mine as I started to really pound into her, just the way she liked it. Between her pussy griping my prick like a vise and the thought of sucking on the Professor's large prick I was soon ready to explode. Lovey, with her usual perception, seemed to know I was ready and grabbed my nipples, twisting them hard, the pain sending my over the edge, my cum flooded into her as I jerked my hips in time to the spurting of the cum from my prick. She bucked into me as her own orgasm took her, the strong muscles in her pussy rippled as they milked the last drops of cum from my prick as we both shuttered to the end.

As I collapsed onto her perspiration covered breasts and chest, I felt her quivering with the last of her orgasm.

"Well, from the evidence I would say that your midnight skulking has been successful this time my dear. Who was it?" Lovey asked, just a little breathlessly.

My breathing slowed enough for me to answer. "Indeed, it has proved most successful my love. And as to who, why none other than our brainy Professor." I rolled off of her on to my side of the bed to squeaks from our bamboo love nest, my prick making an audible pop as it came out of her still tight slit. "Not that he was... busy with anyone but himself, you understand. But I must admit, it was magnificent. Why his prick must be at least eight, perhaps nine inches long and thick in proportion. And such a vast amount of lovely cream he produced." I stroked my own rather used up prick, but alas it was not up to the challenge quite yet, perhaps in an hour or so. But sleep was rapidly overtaking us both, so Lovey and I cuddled as I carefully parted her perspiration dampened bum cheeks then nestled my limp, still moist prick between them. Reaching over I wrapped a hand around one of her large, slick pear shaped breasts, thumb firmly resting on the large, even now stiff nipple; the wonderful perfume of our lovemaking still surrounding and clinging to us as we drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER 2

The Most Wonderful Thing Has Happened

We are right to note the license and disobedience of this member which thrusts itself forward too inopportunely when we do not want it to, and which so inopportunely lets us down when we most need it; it imperiously contests for authority with our will: it stubbornly and proudly refuses all our incitements, both of the mind and hand.

Michel De Montaigne on the penis (his, presumably)

2nd Month – Day 29

I was finally able to get time for myself to just sit and think of how to satisfy my wants and needs. After several days of cogitation I have now determined on a course of action which, once put in place, is sure to prove successful, in that it will ultimately lead to my getting access to all the lovely woman on this... idyllic island. After all, how could a group with such obviously low intelligence match any plan someone with my high intelligence would came up with. Inconceivable, utterly and in every way inconceivable that they would even know they were being manipulated.

Up until the last few days I had been unable to take the time to turn my considerable intelligence to devising a plan or scheme to ensure my success in getting at the women, as it was imperative for all of us to commence preparing for a longer stay. After the first month it had become apparent to even the slowest of us, except Gilligan of course, that we were going to be here much longer than any of us could have imagined. With this realization came the recognition that we had to consider growing much of our food in addition to catching fish and gathering shellfish from the reef and lagoon rather than just stumbling over it as had been the practice before. As we had begun to run out of the prepackaged food carried by the Minnow an additional source of some kind of vegetables was needed to keep us healthy; after all, coconut does grow tiresome rather quickly and frankly is not all that nutritious.

It has become obvious, at least to me, from the time of our first explorations that we were not the first to reach this island. The fact that there are wild chickens in the valleys as well as taro and yams growing about the small plane on which we had built the huts, point to the fact that aboriginal Polynesians have spent some time here, then either leaving or dying out.

We had also found a number of lime and orange trees as well, which is most fortuitous. This leads me to the conclusion that some time in the last century an English war ship, or perhaps an expedition of some sort, had stopped here and planted these trees, or rather their forefathers. It is probable the citrus trees were planted to aid shipwrecked mariners just such as ourselves. Though why the location of the island is not marked on any of the charts the Skipper has is puzzling, perhaps the coordinates of the island had been miss-marked or perchance someone failed to mark them down. Well, be that as it may, these resources improves our chances of surviving, indeed of thriving, here from fifty-fifty to one hundred percent.

Even the possibility of a great storm, such as a typhoon annihilating us has been solved with the discovery of a cave up on the side of the peak, well above any conceivable storm surge. It is a cave, or lava tube rather, which is large and dry enough that we can store any surplus food and other material safely, and is of ample size to use as a shelter in the event of such a storm.

I do not believe I would be remiss in stating that we could all live here quite comfortably for as long as we wished. I know that I am in no hurry to return to civilization as long as Jane's father, Joe Carlucci, has his thugs looking for me, I am sure he plans to do more than break my kneecaps. Also I am lead to wonder if any of the others feel the same; in retrospect, some of the remarks I have overheard leads me to suppose this may be so. Thus I have continually procrastinated in seeking a practical plan to leave the island. Interestingly enough the Skipper has also shown little or no interest in finding a way off the island, and he told me over two months ago he knew approximately were we are and how the currents and winds set in this part of the Pacific.

The first part of the ruse came to me last night as I was undressing and noticed I had several rips in my shirt. Previously, I had begun to contemplate a better way of washing our clothes than pounding them on a rock, as we had run out of soap over a month ago. So a number of weeks ago I began experimenting with making soap from coconut oil and wood ashes, with considerable success. Unfortunately this had not solved the problem of our clothes wearing out.

While pondering the rips and tears in my shirt, it suddenly occurred to me this was legitimate grounds for us to conserve our clothes by only wearing the absolute minimum. The ultimate goal would be, of course, to have all of us nude, the climate certainly favors this. But it is obvious such a proposal would be unworkable unless the concept were to be introduced slowly, which would hopefully also lead to a concurrent lessening of inhibitions.

This evening I took the first steps in what I believe is a winning strategy and met with very positive reactions from the others, again showing that these people are easily manipulated and no match for my intelligence. Calling a meeting just after supper I proposed that we adopt loincloths, or a kind of wrap around the waist for the men and wraparounds for the women, all to be pieced together from our ruined clothing, of which we had an unfortunate overabundance. I pointed out to them that these items were traditional wear of the Polynesians and are thus ideal for the island, what with its heat, humidity, and frequent rains.

Going topless for the men will not make much of a change as the four of us have become accustomed to working shirtless and in cutoffs when we are doing heavy labor or are out on the reef, so we have all developed quite good tans. I also showed them samples of a sandal made from the fiber of coconut husks, coir, that are simple to make and repair, with which we can replace our rapidly deteriorating shoes.

The loincloths for the men would consist of an eighteen or twenty inch by six or seven inch rectangular cloth held in place by another strip of cloth, twine, or rope around the waist. For the ladies the wraparound, known locally as a lava-lava or muumuu, would be just long enough to reach from under the arms to somewhere above the knee, well above the knee if I can manage it, and just wide enough to provide a minimum overlap and be held in place by tucking, or perhaps knotted at the shoulder.

All agreed to met tomorrow after breakfast and decide on my proposal.

It made my dick hard, well harder anyway, as I stroked it at the thought of the women parading around in such dress, bending over, showing their lovely pussies. This time though I put on some coconut oil on my dick to try to keep down the chafing and to make the sensation last as long as possible. While enjoyable, I am getting damned tired of masturbating. This was not the longest stretch in which I hadn't fucked someone, but by God, it was getting there.

* * *

"So, Maryann, what'd you think of the Professors idea?" I asked as we were preparing for bed.

"Well," she said, her voice muffled as she pulled her t-shirt over her head. "I guess it's a good idea, my clothes are certainly getting kind of ratty, I mean, just look at this!" She said thrusting the t-shirt at me. I took my eyes off of her boobs and glanced at the rather worst for wear garment, then went back to looking at her tits, and nice tits they were.

"Uh, Ginger, my face is up here."

"Yes, but your booby's are so nice, I could just eat them up."

She sighed. "Okay, go ahead. But first," she said, lightly slapping my reaching hand. "I want you to tell me what you think about the Professors idea as well."

"Okay, if that's what you want." I pouted. "Then we can have some fun." I said as I slipped out of my shorts and halter then sat on the bed, kicking off my sandals, keeping my legs wide open so she could see my pussy. "Well, given that our clothes are getting kind of worn out, I think he may have a good idea there. I know none of us brought very much with us. Course the Skipper and Gilligan were living on the boat so have all their clothes. But neither of them come close to fitting any of us."

"You don't think maybe he has some other motive in getting us to wear less, do you Ginger?" She waved her hand. "Yes I know it'll be more comfortable if the men wore, what did he call them... breechclouts or rather loincloths, and we wear some kind of wraparound, what with the heat and humidity and all. And frankly my shoes are ruined already so the sandals are a good idea. But I wonder? Is he trying to get us naked? And if so, why?"

"Well, if he is, I for one wouldn't mind at all. Shit, most of the time I was on camera I was nude. And you know what? I really liked that! It made me feel so sexy, and horny. And as to why, well it's probably so he can fuck us, and that sounds like fun!"

I stretched out on the bed, my arms over my head, lifting my tits, my legs also stretched out and spread, causing my reddish blond bush to almost pop out, my really hairy bush, seeing as we ran out of razorblades over two months ago. The Skipper had a barber kit on the boat so he keeps everybody's hair trimmed. There is also a straight razor that he uses to shave the guys once a week or so. But there's no way Lovey, Maryann, or I were going to shave our pussies, legs, and armpits with it, or have the Skipper do it, even if he is a fairy. Everyone will just had to get used to hairy legs, pits, and cunts. I know I already have.

Maryann's eyes were bouncing back and forth between my pussy and tits as I slowly stretched and writhed on our bed, arching my back, flexing my toes.

"Yes... well..." she licked her full, red lips, her own nipples growing hard. "Well," she cleared her throat. "Perhaps, yes, you know that does sound kind of nice, in a lewd sort of way."

"Yes it does, doesn't it. Now take off those shorts and come to bed love. I want to taste you."

Maryann giggled as she stepped out of her shorts and shimmied over to our newly larger bed. Before, it had been two smaller ones on opposite sides of the hut but we had tied them together after our little... conversation a few weeks ago.

About two weeks ago Lovey and I had decided we'd finally had enough of the teasing little bitch and so had set up a little... training session for her. That evening as she was taking off her t-shirt I grabbed her hands when they were stretched over her head tangled in her t-shirt. As she opened her mouth in shock (or outrage, who the fuck cared) I shoved a wad of cloth in it and pushed her facedown onto the table. So far she was too startled to do much of anything but stare at me with huge round eyes.

Grabbing one of the ropes I had ready, I quickly wrapped it a couple of times around her pinned wrists, then took a couple of wraps between her wrists and tied it off. The Skipper had put a hook on the bottom edge of the table for me while Maryann was out working in the garden that morning, so it was easy to quickly attach the rope to the hook, leaving her stretched out, her cute little butt in the air, legs feebly kicking in the air.

Pulling out a strip of cloth I tied it over the gag so she couldn't spit it out, then went behind her. Her frightened eyes followed me as far as they could before she had to turn her head, though, given her position, she couldn't see over her shoulder very well. She was kicking and bucking now, but the table was quite heavy and nothing she did could do more than make it rock a bit.