The Island

September 1963, Somewhere in the Pacific…

The tropical sun rained down on Ginger.

She had acquired a perfect all over tan. It required maintenance.

When she last stretched out nude in LA two helicopters interrupted the session.

Here in paradise there was nothing but tropical birds.

“Hey Ginger”.

Tropical birds and Gilligan.

He had seen Ginger nude a thousand times, but still marveled at the sight.

“Hi Gilligan” she replied, how’s it hanging?”

Gilligan had few virtues, but one was an impressive package.

Ginger, Mary Anne, and Mrs. Howell had taught him to use it.

The other men sometimes resented the competition.

But as the professor said, they had to “Give the Devil’s Johnson its due.”

But with two alternate ladies available they usually found satisfaction.

And that was what counted on the Island.

The seven of them had decided to detach from a degenerating society.

They had agreed to spend a decade on the hitherto unknown island.

It was a tropical paradise.

Food was plentiful. Minimal effort provided a bounty of tropical fruit and vegetables.

Howell and the Skipper fished enough to put meat on the table.

Fresh water was abundant, geothermal power was available.

And the professor as the worlds leading expert on improvised technology.

His skills and the critical supplies pre positioned on earlier trips would sustain them during their ‘sabbatical.”

Minnow had made a dozen covert runs to the island. The castaways, as they referred to themselves, would want for nothing.

“Junior G could use a little sun.” she said, scratching at the bulge behind his buttons.

Gilligan started unbuttoning his shirt.

“You know Ginger, when you’re right you’re right.”

Ginger was so focused on the blow job that neither she nor Gilligan noticed when Mary Ann unfolded her chaise lounger.

She smiled as she watched the two of them.

Ginger’s head was legendary in Hollywood.

And Gilligan got so far into the pleasure that he would sometimes howl.

Mary Anne was also known for a first class blow.

But Ginger was a recognized artist.

Well that was O.K.  Mary Anne had the top tits on the island.

And it was time to give her prize juggs a little time in the sun.

By the time they noticed Mary Anne was oiled, nude, and working on her tan,

“Good afternoon Mary Anne”, Gilligan said.

“Hi Gilligan, How’s it hanging?”

“Loose” he laughed. Ginger took Junior G to the river.”

“I saw that.” She smiled “You think he’ll be up for some spelunking later?”

“Sure” he said. “He should be up when you’re done cooking.”

Ginger took junior g in her hand. “Or maybe not” she said.

“Greedy Bitch.” Smiled Mary Anne.