Island Girls
by Ann Douglas
The
following is a work of erotic fiction
and includes scenes
of sexual activity. It includes
characters that are copyrighted
by United Artists
Television, Gladysya Productions and
the
Columbia Broadcasting System (CBS).
The story is intended
for the non-commercial enjoyment of
fans and should be
considered a parody. No
copyright infringement is intended
and no profit will be made from the
distribution of this story.
Maintaining a slow but steady
pace,
the shapely redhead navigated the narrow
path through the tropical
foliage.
Dressed in a white evening
gown, she was hardly dressed for this
sort of excursion, but the weather was
warm and the breeze pleasant. Under
a different
set of circumstances, the small island
around her might have been described as
a little bit of paradise, but as much as
she wished they were different, the
circumstances were what they were, and
even paradise could be a prison if it
wasn't where you wanted to be.
Six weeks before, the actress had
taken what was supposed to be just an
afternoon cruise out of
Honolulu
,
a little jaunt that she thought
would help her prepare for a role in an
upcoming film. But
the three hour tour had turned instead
into
an unending nightmare when the tiny ship
found itself tossed about in an
unexpected storm, until, badly damaged
and no longer seaworthy, it had washed
up on the beach of this uncharted
deserted island. In
that moment, Ginger Grant, rising Hollywood star,
found herself just one of seven
castaways
– marooned God knows where.
Feeling a slight tug on the side
of
her dress, Ginger paused a moment to
free the material from where it had
snagged on one of the shrubs that lined
the way.
Impractical as it was, the
evening gown was
pretty much the only clothing she had
and it wouldn't do to tear it more than
she already had. You
didn't have to look
too carefully to see a dozen previous
small tears that had been repaired.
As it was, she had almost missed
the
cruise entirely, only making it to the
dock minutes before the Minnow slipped
its moorings. Her
week in Hawaii
had been paid for by a night club in Waikiki that had
picked up the tab in exchange for two
shows a night. She
had finished the last
performance a little after midnight, but
instead of heading back to her hotel
room, Ginger had spent the night with
the Cuban bandleader who was the
nightclub's other headliner. Nearly
fifty,
the former television star was a bit old
for her, but charming as
hell.
He also had, he'd told her with a
mischievous smile, a thing for redheads.
When she'd finally woken up
shortly before noon, there hadn't been
time
to go back to the hotel to change.
It was becoming more apparent by
the
day that their stay here on the island
was going to be indeterminate, if not
permanent.
Any search for the Minnow had
to have been called off weeks ago, and
even if it hadn't, given how far they'd
been blown off course, it would take a
small miracle for a rescue ship to find
them.
No, the island and the six people
she'd been stranded with were now her
world and she was going to have to learn
to deal with it.
And quite an eclectic bunch they
were.
First there was the Captain of
the
boat, one Jonas Grumby, who everyone
just called Skipper. An
ex-Navy man in his mid-forties, the
slightly overweight sailor had a jovial
attitude that helped keep the spirits
of the passengers afloat as much as he
had the tiny ship during the storm.
Then there was Gilligan, his
gangly
first mate, who didn't seem to go by any
other name. In
fact, Ginger still wasn't sure if that
was
his first or last name. Clumsy and
accident prone, the young man
nevertheless
had a heart of gold and did all he could
to make life on the island as bearable
as possible.
The movie star had been surprised
to
find Thurston Howell III and his wife,
Eunice, among the passengers. A
man of his wealth owned yachts that made
the little excursion ship seem like a
dinghy.
But it turned out the
fifty-something business giant was
considering
acquiring an island tour company and had
decided the best way to judge how
people enjoyed rides such as the company
offered was to take one himself. He'd
chosen the tiny independent company to
avoid advertising his plans.
Next came a science teacher named
Roy Hinckley. About
the Skipper's age,
he also seemed to enjoy his nickname of
the Professor instead of his given
name.
For a high school teacher, that
might've seemed, at least at first, a
bit presumptuous, but it turned out to
be
more than appropriate since he had
advanced degrees in several sciences. It
seemed that a day didn't go by that he
didn't come up with some amazing gadget
to make life on the island easier.
The last member of their little
community was a nineteen year old store
clerk named Mary Ann Summers. Born
and raised on her parents' farm, the
five foot four brunette had won a trip
to
Hawaii
in a contest, the sightseeing tour being
the final item on her itinerary.
Afterwards, she planned to take a
cab right to the airport for the
flight back home to
Kansas
. That
plan had proved fortunate indeed for her
as, having brought her suitcase aboard,
she'd been left with several changes of
clothing.
Mr. Howell had also
inexplicably arrived dockside with
several suitcases and storage chests,
all of
which he insisted come on board with
them.
He later explained that he'd done
so just to see how the crew dealt with
overly demanding passengers.
In an act of generosity, Mary Ann
had offered to share what she had with
Ginger, even though the older woman was
half a head taller and much more
endowed. Still, the farm girl was sure
some
items could be altered, and further
suggested that Mrs. Howell might be
persuaded to donate a few articles as
well, being closer to the actress in
height if not figure.
Thankfully, the weather had held
up
the month and a half they'd been
stranded, because acquiring better
clothes for
Ginger had taken a back seat to the more
immediate concerns of food and
shelter.
In that regard, they had been
amazingly lucky. The
diverse group brought
with them a skill set that seemed
practically tailor made for building
their
little community – almost as if they had
all been cast in some Hollywood
production.
The Skipper and Gilligan had
served
together in the Pacific, bringing with
them, among other talents, the ability
to built native shelters which, while
not overly luxurious, did give them a
place to live that was dry and
comfortable.
At first, they had concentrated
on just building one large communal hut,
but the experience gained there allowed
them to add four more smaller
structures, giving the passengers a bit
more privacy.
Aside from his vast scientific
knowledge, which allowed him to repair
at least the receiving end of the radio,
the Professor had also been a long time
scoutmaster with vast experience in
camping in the wild. Additionally,
his
ability to come up with gadgets, using
nothing more than what nature provided,
was nothing short of phenomenal.
The farm raised Mary Ann was a
wonder in the kitchen –well, at least
what they had been able to make of
one.
Even though a great part of their
diet consisted of fish, coconuts and
assorted fruits, mixed with the
occasional
wild game one of them managed to catch,
she ensured their meals were enjoyable
and not just necessary for survival. She
even
managed to make a sort of banana cream
pie that quickly became everyone's
favorite.
As for the Howells, well, a
lifetime
of having others do everything for you
ill equipped them for roughing it, but
surprisingly they were willing to chip
in as much as the rest of the band,
sometimes a bit reluctantly perhaps, but
eventually doing their share. In
the end they developed a certain
satisfaction in actually doing things
for themselves for the first time.
Ginger herself was surprised at
her
own resilience and the veritable
treasure trove of knowledge she had
acquired
over her acting career. Who
would've
thought that the years she'd spent on
television and movie sets would've
prepared her so well for life on a
deserted island? Even
in the short month and a half they'd
been here, she'd made more than a dozen
helpful suggestions based on the plot
of some show she'd once been in.
But now, with their immediate
survival and even some level of comfort
assured, Ginger's mind had begun to
address secondary needs – one in
particular that she viewed almost as
essential
as food and water. Accepting
the
prospect, however unpleasant, that she
might never return home to civilization,
what was she going to do about sex?
The question had been brought to
the
forefront of her thoughts last night
when, unable to sleep, she had gone for
a
late night stroll. Passing
behind the
Howells' hut, she had been surprised by
the sounds she heard coming from it –
sounds quite familiar. Not
even the
professor's wizardry could make glass
for the windows, so it was easy enough
to
glance inside to look.
There, laying on the bamboo
framed
bed, Mrs. Howell was getting what could
only be described as a first class
screwing from her husband. Illuminated
by
the moonlight filtering in through the
equally open windows on the other
side, Ginger could see that the
millionaire had certainly brought
something
more than money to their marriage.
Having gone without for longer
than she'd ever done since the night
she'd
first given it up, the redhead let out a
low appreciative whistle, even as she
felt a bit of envy that she wasn't
laying there in the older woman's
place.
Returning to her own hut, Ginger
was
careful not to wake Mary Ann, who shared
the dwelling and slept only a dozen
feet from her. Other
than in the case of
the Howells, who were after all married,
the huts had been assigned by gender,
with the Skipper sharing one with
Gilligan and the Professor having one to
himself.
Originally, all three single
men were going to share a hut, but after
Gilligan ruined one of the Professor's
experiments, it was decided to build
another one where he could work in
peace.
Sleep had continued to prove
elusive
the rest of the night and come the
morning, after helping clean up after
breakfast, Ginger had decided to go for
a walk to consider her options. She
didn't have to go far to come to the
conclusion that they were extremely
limited.
Ginger didn't consider herself
promiscuous, at least not by Hollywood
standards, but she enjoyed a sex life
that could be described as adventurous
and varied. The
concept of monogamy held
little appeal and celibacy even less. The
Sixties
might be a new decade with new
perspectives, but society still frowned
on women playing the whore, at least in
public.
And in a community as tiny as
theirs, that would be a secret not long
in
keeping.
Resistant to the idea as she
might be, it was obvious that if she
wanted a sexual partner, it was going to
have to be along more traditional lines.
The question was, who would it
be?
Despite having been impressed
with
his package, having watched his prowess
for far longer than she really should
have, Mr. Howell was immediately
discarded as a prospect. While
it had been her experience that most
men in his position doubtlessly got a
little on the side, she couldn't take
the
chance that his wife, dizzy as she
sometimes appeared to be, wouldn't find
out
about it.
In
Hollywood
,
most wives just looked the other
way, or even had something going on for
themselves. Mrs.
Howell, however, didn't strike Ginger as
either kind.
Next up was the Skipper, not the
best physical specimen but, as they say,
beggars can't be choosy. After
all, during her early casting couch
days, she'd certainly shared her bed
with worse. The
memory of those days reminded her of a
fact she'd almost forgotten. Almost
without
exception, a good number of those pudgy
producers and directors had
been lacking in the manhood department.
While it hadn't been universally
true, it was common enough to give her
pause.
What if she picked the Skipper
and he didn't have the tools to get the
job done?
Actually, that was a risk she was
running with all of them, she realized.
Unlike back in the real world,
she wasn't going to be able to take any
of them out for a test drive.
While also not big in the looks
department, Gilligan had the advantage
of youth, and hopefully stamina. Not
exceedingly bright, he could be taught
what he needed to do. The problem with
Gilligan, she considered, was his
attachment to the Skipper. How
to break
that?
After all, from what they'd
told the
passengers, the two of them had been
best buddies since their Navy days, and
when the Skipper had retired and started
his own business, he'd taken Gilligan
along.
The why of that was something the
redhead had wondered about, especially
seeing how inept the younger man could
be at times. Could
there be something
more there than they wanted to admit?
If that was the case, then it
left
the Professor, admittedly the best
looking of the bunch. The
problem with the school teacher was that
he didn't seem all that interested in
anything other than his books and test
tubes.
Just a week ago, Ginger and the
Professor had been gathering bananas
when they'd been caught in a downpour,
soaking them both to the skin.
The
rain had caused her dress to become not
only like a second skin, but practically
transparent, giving the Professor a
clear view of what was underneath. Even
a
priest would've taken a look, Ginger
thought, but
Roy
didn't even seem to notice the nipples
pressing their way through the wet
fabric, preferring to calculate how long
the
shower would last.
So, all in all, her prospects
seemed
rather slim, she had to admit. Still,
there
had to be something she could do.
The path began to widen and a few
familiar landmarks told Ginger she was
near her destination. On
one of their first forays to explore and
map out the island, they had found a
beautiful waterfall that emptied into a
large pool of water. The
Professor
theorized that the pool drained into the
sea through an underground
conduit.
An interesting fact, but not as
important as that the pool was certainly
large enough to swim in – away from
prying eyes. Not
that Ginger cared about
that, but it seemed to matter a great
deal to Mary Ann.
The first time the two girls had
come here to swim, Mary Ann had turned
beet red with embarrassment when, not
having a swimsuit to wear, Ginger simply
stripped off her dress and jumped in
naked.
The water was so warm and
pleasing that she had suggested the
younger girl follow her example. The
brunette had declined and, slipping
behind a tall shrub to change, donned
the suit she'd bought for her
vacation.
The night they completed the
common
hut, the Skipper had managed to put
together a home brew out of ingredients
found in the jungle. He
called it
Kickapoo Joy Juice after a similar
concoction in an old comic strip. The
secret
recipe, he said, had been taught to him
by an old petty officer he'd known in
the Navy.
Whatever was in it, it certainly
had
a kick, so much so that it didn't take
all that much to make everyone a bit
tipsy.
Holding it better than her
roommate, Ginger had used the
opportunity to learn a bit more about
the young brunette
than she might've normally been willing
to share.
Ginger was greatly surprised that
Mary Ann had a boyfriend back home, one
Horace
Higgenbotham from Horners Corners, which
Ginger learned was the next town over
from Winfield where the store clerk
lived.
Despite being pretty, in that
girl next door
sort of way, and having a figure that
while average was still nice, the girl
seemed
almost clueless about the things men and
women did together. Oh,
not the basic physical aspects of course
– she had after all grown up on a farm –
but the more interesting practices
that separated people from animals.
After another round, Mary Ann
even
admitted to being a virgin, which was
hardly surprising to Ginger. They
might have only a half decade's
difference in age, but in that span was
a lifetime of experience. In
a way,
Ginger now mused, not being experienced
might be thought of as a blessing in
disguise for the younger woman. After
all,
you can't miss what you never had.
Stepping out into the clearing
just
before the falls, Ginger moved a few
feet further down the path, but then
stopped short when she realized that
there was someone there ahead of her. She
couldn't see the figure clearly at
first,
partially hidden by a few large bushes,
but once the sun came out from behind a
cloud and highlighted the calico dress,
the redhead identified it as Mary
Ann.
Recognition brought relief as the
passengers had been cautioned early on
by the skipper that, while their island
did indeed appear to be deserted, that
couldn't be said for others in the area. He
and the professor had already found
evidence of past visits by hunting
parties.
Glancing over her shoulder, then
to
her right and left, Ginger expected to
find Gilligan, the Professor, or even
the Skipper, one of whom usually
accompanied the young woman when she
ventured
out into the jungle. Yet,
try as she
might, there was no sign of any of them.
As unlikely as it seemed, Mary
Ann was indeed alone.
Curious as to what brought her
out this
far, knowing that she wasn't foolish
enough to have come to swim alone,
Ginger
began to again move forward, the sound
of her footsteps muffled by the soft
dirt.
She advanced about a ten feet
when, now having an unimpeded view of
her roommate, she abruptly stopped
again.
Her hand shot up to her mouth to
stifle an involuntary gasp, generated by
the totally unexpected image before
her.
She shifted a few feet to the
left
to get a better view, one which made it
even more apparent as to what was
happening.
'Oh my God,' Ginger
thought as she slowly removed her
hand,
'she's masturbating.'
Sure enough, the shoulder haired
brunette had the bottom of her dress up
around her waist and, with eyes tightly
closed, one hand down inside her simple
white panties. It
was a sight that Ginger found even more
captivating than the one through the
window of the Howells' hut the night
before.
A smile filled Ginger's face as
she
watched her roommate for a very long
minute.
Then, as quietly as she could,
she began to retrace her steps back the
way she'd come. She'd
got about four
feet when she stepped onto a slippery
patch and went flying through the air,
landing hard on her ass, a cry of
unladylike expletives shattering the
morning calm.
It took a few moments for her
head
to stop spinning, but when Ginger opened
her eyes, she saw Mary Ann standing
over her, a look of concern on her face.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
Ginger took a moment to check,
quickly satisfying herself that while
she was probably bruised, nothing was
broken.
Accepting a helping hand from
the shorter girl, she climbed back up
onto her feet.
"I'll live," she
said with a smile, which turned to a
frown when she noticed the long, jagged
tear in the seam of her gown, "but
it looks like I tore my dress
again."
The rip bared the side of
Ginger's
left breast, reminding her that in her
haste to make the Minnow's departure she
had misplaced her brassiere in the Cuban
bandleader's hotel room. If
she'd taken the time to look for it,
she'd
probably be on a movie set back in
Hollywood
right now.
"Oh I can fix that easily
enough,"
Mary Ann assured her, placing
the ripped material over the exposed
flesh to see if it could be mended. She'd
already demonstrated her skill with a
needle and thread many times, while
Ginger had a hard time just threading a
needle.
"You have to watch where you're
going,"
Mary Ann said, her face
reflecting
her relief that the taller woman was
okay,
"especially way out here. I
don't see how you could've missed a
patch of leaves, it's as big as …."
"I was walking backwards," Ginger
interrupted. "I
wanted to give you some privacy."
The look that flashed across Mary
Ann's face, replacing the one of
concern, told Ginger that was the worst
thing
she could have said. It
was a look of
horror mixed with embarrassment.
"You saw me?" Mary
Ann said, that look reflected in her
voice.
"Mary Ann, it's no
big thing," Ginger
said, trying to sound reassuring. "For
goodness sake, it's 1964, everyone
does it."
"Maybe in Hollywood," Mary
Ann replied in an unexpected burst of
tears, "but not in Winfield – not
thinking the things I think when I do
it."
"Mary Ann, honey, you shouldn't
think that way," Ginger
said,
trying to brush away the younger girl's
tears.
"If you really love Horace, then
nothing you imagine doing with him
could be wrong."
"Horace?" Mary
Ann repeated, her expression again
changing, this time to one Ginger
couldn't read. "I
don't love Horace, I hate the little
creep.
I wanted to throw up every time
he even kissed me."
"I don't understand," Ginger
said, confusion in her voice.
"I only ever went out with Horace
because Sam said it was a good idea,"
she went on, her words rushed as
if she was suddenly filled with a need
to say something she'd held in for far
too long.
"That if people thought Horace
and I
were a couple, then they'd never suspect
about me and Sam."
'Who the hell was Sam?' Ginger
heard herself ask, curious but feeling
it wasn't a question she should ask.
It was, however, apparent that
Sam must
have been someone that would be an inappropriate
partner
in the community Mary Ann lived in.
Although from some of the stories
she'd heard about country folk pairing
off with cousins and such, she wondered
what could have been considered
unacceptable.
'Could he be a Negro?' Ginger
thought, remembering that was still
pretty taboo even in Hollywood. Just
look
at Sammy Davis and May Britt.
"Mary Ann, trust me," Ginger
said, deciding to ignore the question
of who Sam was and deal with what she
knew for sure. "There's
nothing you could ever imagine
doing with Sam or anyone else that I
probably haven't done at least a half
dozen
times."
Ginger knew that number could
have
been multiplied by ten and still fall
short of a true figure, but decided to
tone it down to what she guessed might
be Midwestern standards.
"You don't understand," Mary
Ann replied, her voice still shaky, but
at least the tears had begun to stop. "We
didn't
mean for it to happen, we were just
practicing for when we started going
out with boys. Then,
things just got out
of hand and we couldn't stop. It
was
never supposed to go that far."
"Are you saying Sam was a girl?" Ginger
asked in a surprised voice.
"Yes, her name was Samantha,"
Mary
Ann replied.
"Mary Ann, it's okay," Ginger
repeated.
"A lot of girls practice kissing,
and
sometimes other things," she
added,
leaving the last part intentionally
unclear.
"How long did this go on?"
she added out of curiosity.
"Three and a half, no, four
years,"
the younger woman answered.
'Four years!' Ginger
thought, having expected Mary Ann to
say a month or two at most. 'Who'd
have
imagined Miss Rebecca of Sunnybrook
Farms was a muffer?.'
Of course she didn't say that,
but
it was impossible not to have the
surprise she felt not reflect on her
face.
"You must think I'm horrible," Mary
Ann said, misinterpreting the look on
Ginger's face as one of rejection.
"Oh honey, I could never think
that,"
Ginger quickly replied,
putting her arm around the shorter girl
in assurance.
"You don't think what we did
was wrong?" Mary
Ann asked, having
read in gossip magazines that Hollywood
people looked at things
differently.
Ginger released her hold and
paused
a breath before answering. When
she did,
she chose her words carefully, saying
exactly what she thought Mary Ann needed
to hear.
"If it's wrong, then I'm guilty
too,"
the actress said.
"What?" Mary
Ann asked. Now
it was her turn to be surprised.
"When I first started out in
Hollywood," Ginger
said in a slow,
calm tone, "I shared an apartment with
another actress, Debbie
Dawson.
That in itself wasn't uncommon;
a lot of girls did it to save money and
such.
But as time went on, Debbie and I
grew closer than sisters and eventually
we shared a relationship that I think
was quite similar to the one you had
with
Samantha."
"You mean the two of you…" Mary
Ann started to ask, remembering having
seen the name Ginger mentioned in fan
magazines and also recalling the photo
that had gone with it. Debbie
had been
even more beautiful than Ginger.
"…shared a bed," Ginger
said, completing Mary Ann's sentence, "in
the same way married couples do."
"Oh my goodness," Mary
Ann responded, her voice filled with the
relief of hearing that she and Samantha
weren't as unique as she thought.
"What happened to the two of
you?"
the younger woman asked.
"Life took us in different
directions," the
older woman answered,
figuring that was a general enough
response.
Ginger's liaisons with Debbie was
been primarily physical, the two of them
taking care of their mutual
needs.
It was obvious to her that Mary
Ann's relationship with Samantha
involved much more. So it was better to
keep
her responses vague and let the younger
woman draw her own conclusions. It
would probably also be a good idea not
to mention that her former roommate had
hardly been the only woman she'd been
intimate with over the years. One
step at a time.
"This is so much to take in at
once,"
Mary Ann confessed, taking a
step back and looking back at the spot
where she had been pleasuring herself. "I
need some time to…"
"Well then, take your time," Ginger
quickly replied. "After
all, that's the one thing we seem
to have a lot of."
That Mary Ann had to agree with,
having come to the same conclusion as
Ginger about their chances of
rescue.
Years before, when she was still
trying to get her first big break,
Ginger had taken all sorts of jobs to
make
ends meet.
One involved playing the eye
candy in a nightclub mind reading act.
Looking at Mary Ann now, the
redhead greatly wished the act had been
real, so she could tell what the
brunette was now thinking. Unfortunately,
even the expression on her
face was inscrutable.
She would just have to wait to
see
what today's seeds might bring, because
a few moments later, Mary Ann seemed to
have already dismissed the incident from
memory.
"Was someone looking for me?" Mary
Ann asked, her concern shifting as to
why
Ginger had come out to the falls
in
the first place.
"No, I was just out for a walk," Ginger
replied, hiding her disappointment at
the change of subject. "Just
trying
to sort out a problem."
"Oh," Mary
Ann responded, adding almost
automatically, "anything that I can help
you with?"
"Actually, I think it might
just have solved itself," Ginger
answered.
"Good," the
younger woman smiled, glancing at the
shadows made by the overhead sun and
making a pretty close guess of the time,
a
trick Ginger had not been able to
master.
"I guess I should get back and
start putting things together for
dinner."
With only torchlight available to
the castaways after dark, just about any
task beyond their small compound had
to be completed before the sun set,
including gathering fruits and such for
the
evening meal. As
the primary cook, that
was Mary Ann's responsibility. This
time,
however, Ginger offered to lend her a
hand.
An offer that was readily
accepted.
"But maybe we should stop back
at the hut first and let me take care of
that tear," Mary
Ann said, again examining the rip in
Ginger's dress. "We
wouldn't want
to give the boys any ideas."
'No, we wouldn't,' Ginger
thought, feeling a flush of excitement
as Mary Ann's finger inadvertently
brushed against her bare breast.
-=-=-=-=-
A few days passed and Mary Ann
hadn't
made any comment about what had happened
at the falls, despite plenty of
opportunities for her to do so. Even
so,
Ginger wasn't all that concerned. She
just
figured the younger brunette needed a
little more time to sort things out. But
by the fifth day, a disconcerting
thought
began to work its way into Ginger's
thinking.
What if Mary Ann had
already considered
the idea of the two of them and decided
against it? After
all, just because she'd had one
relationship with a girl back home, that
didn't mean she was necessarily open
to another. There
was a saying back in Tinsel
Town, 'Just because a girl's licked a
pussy or two, it doesn't always make her
a dyke."
There were plenty of
actresses who'd gone down on women who
could make a difference in their careers
as readily as they would on a man, but
avoided their own sex otherwise.
And even if Mary Ann was a tried
and
true muff diver, there was no assurance
that she would be into Ginger. As
hard as it sometimes was for the
redheaded
bombshell to accept, not everyone wanted
to fuck a movie star simply because she
was a star.
A few years back, while working
on
the film "Belly Dancers from Bali Bali", Ginger
became infatuated with one of the
supporting
actresses.
Not an unusual occurrence as
on set romances, or even just hook-ups,
were pretty much a norm in the industry
– if for no other reason than people
dependent on films and such for their
livelihood were less likely to run off
and sell their stories to the gossip
rags.
What was out of the norm, at
least
for Ginger, was that the girl expressed
little interest in her.
If the curvaceous blonde simply
wasn't
into women, Ginger would've easily
understood.
But that was far from the fact,
as the girl had made it no secret that
she preferred the company of her own
gender.
What had come as a surprise to
the rising star was that the younger
woman preferred women who could easily
be mistaken for men.
If either was
the case with Mary Ann, there was little
Ginger could do about it. Which
put her back at square one.
-=-=-=-=-
At the end of the week, the
Skipper
announced that he and Gilligan would be
going with the Professor on an
overnight survey of the far side of the
island.
So when night fell on the little
community, only the girls and the
Howells gathered around the communal
dinner table. The
meal passed quickly, with the Howells
excusing themselves early, saying it had
been a tiring day and they wanted to
turn in.
It hadn't escaped Ginger's notice
that Mr. Howell had been sharing
intimate touches with his wife under the
table
all through the meal. She
had little doubt
how they would be spending the evening
and, knowing that, felt a touch of
envy.
'Oh well,' she
thought to herself as she and Mary Ann
began to clear the table, 'at
least
someone is getting lucky.'
With little else to do, the two
women retired to their own hut and made
ready for bed themselves. The
night was particularly warm, but since
the afternoon at the falls, Ginger felt
funny sleeping in the nude as had been
her norm.
Instead she put on an old shirt
that Gilligan had contributed to her
slowly increasing wardrobe. It
was a bit snug on her, but served its
intended purpose – if only barely since
it came down to less than an inch below
her sex.
It was unsurprising that both
the Skipper and his first mate had
several changes of clothes onboard, but
it
was strange to Ginger that all of the
older man's shirts were the same dark
blue, while Gilligan's were red. That
was
until it was explained that they viewed
their work clothes as a uniform of
sorts, much like they had worn in the
Navy – hence the lack of diversity. Mary
Ann of course still had the
undergarments she had brought with her
on vacation, which were unfortunately a
few sizes too small to share with her
taller roommate.
As the night began to wear on,
Ginger
was having trouble falling asleep, a
circumstance she'd encountered often of
late.
It had become very hard for her
to
distract herself from the rise and fall
of Mary Ann's breasts as she slumbered
so near.
She considered taking a short
stroll, the night air usually helped her
relax, but decided against it when faced
with the possibility of overhearing the
Howells' nocturnal play.
Eventually sleep did come, if
disturbed by unwanted dreams, until,
halfway to the dawn, she abruptly found
herself awake once more. It
took a few
moments for her to realize that a noise
had pulled her from slumber and an
equal span to recognize what it was.
Lifting herself up from her cot
and
swinging her legs over the side, Ginger
turned in the direction of Mary Ann's
bed.
In the quiet of the night, there
was no mistaking that that was the
source of the noise that had awakened
her.
There was also just enough
moonlight from the window between the
beds to see what was causing the
noise.
"Fuck me!" Ginger
said under her breath. "She's
playing with herself in her sleep."
Sure enough, Mary Ann was, with
eyes
still tightly closed, slowly pleasuring
herself.
The hem of her nightgown was up
around her
waist and her left hand lay across the
lightly haired mound between her legs. Rising
to her feet and taking a slow, silent
step closer, Ginger could see that Mary
Ann had two fingers inside herself.
As much as she wanted to turn
away, Ginger
found it impossible to do so – the sight
was just too enticing. Her
own pussy ached to be touched she felt
her right hand moving almost
involuntarily toward it. Then,
with it only inches away, she pulled it
back.
It just didn't feel right.
Perhaps that walk was called for
after all, Ginger considered, if only to
give Mary Ann privacy. The
Howells had undoubtedly worn themselves
out by now and would be fast asleep. The
redhead
had barely made a quarter turn when the
sleeping girl moaned something
that knocked her literally off her feet.
Whirling around at the sound of
her
name, Ginger caught one foot in front of
the other and tripped over them,
landing on the dirt floor with a loud
thud.
"Ginger!" the
actress heard the farm girl call out a
second time, but now with a conscious
voice.
"Are you alright?"
By the time Ginger replied that
she
was, Mary Ann was out of her bed and by
her side, asking what happened?
"I tripped," came
the simple reply.
"You tripped," Mary
Ann repeated. "Where
were you going?"
If she'd had another moment to
think, Ginger would've simply thought to
say she was headed to the outhouse,
indoor plumbing not being one of the
Professor's wonders. Instead,
she found herself telling the truth.
"Oh my," Mary
Ann said as, lifting her hand to look,
she saw the dampness on it. "I
thought
it was only a dream," she added.
Thinking what to say next, Ginger
noted
that the younger woman wasn't exhibiting
any of the embarrassment that she'd done
a week ago under similar circumstances. Emboldened
by
the observation, she decided to go for
broke.
"You also called out my name," she
said.
"Was that part of your dream
too?"
At that, the embarrassment
returned.
Mary Ann stood up and, stepping back to
the bed, sat down on the edge of
it.
Ginger paused a breath, then sat
down next to her.
"You were dreaming of me, weren't
you?"
Ginger asked.
"Yes," Mary
Ann replied in a low tone.
"And from what you were doing," Ginger
continued,
"I don't think I
have to ask what the dream was about."
"Oh, I'm so embarrassed," Mary
Ann replied.
"Would you feel less
embarrassed if I told you I've had
similar dreams?" Ginger
offered.
"You've had dreams about being
with me?"
Mary Ann asked, the
disbelief in her tone clear.
"Why do you find that so hard
to believe?" Ginger
responded,
having picked up on the doubt in her
query.
"I guess I shouldn't,"
Mary Ann answered a long breath
later. "After
all, it's not like you have a lot of
options, unless of course Mrs. Howell is
the sort that gets you going."
While the millionaire's wife
would
hardly have been the oldest woman she'd
had sex with, that distinction
belonging to a casting director who'd
given Ginger one of her early breaks,
mature women really weren't her thing.
She much preferred lovers nearer
her own age.
"No, she isn't," the
redhead said.
"Then I guess I win by default," Mary
Ann noted.
This was not going as well as she
had hoped, Ginger thought.
"Mary Ann, I …" she
started to say.
"Let me ask you a question," the
brunette interrupted, "and
please answer honestly."
"Okay."
"That day in Honolulu, when all
this started, when the question might
have still been a choice and not just a
matter of availability, what was your
first impression of me?" Mary
Ann asked.
"If the Minnow had simply made it
back
to port that afternoon, could you have
imagined me in your bed?"
"No," Ginger
admitted without hesitation.
"I didn't think so," Mary
Ann said.
Ginger could, she knew, have
pointed
out that after the romp she'd had with
that Cuban band leader the night before,
she probably would have turned down even
Liz Taylor if the opportunity
presented itself. But
that wouldn't have
helped the matter, she decided.
"I'm sorry," Ginger
said instead.
To her surprise, Mary
Ann's face filled with a smile, not the
reaction Ginger expected.
"You're not upset?" Ginger
asked.
"No, because you answered
truthfully," Mary
Ann said.
"I can't respect someone who
can't be
honest."
Now it was Ginger that smiled,
pleased that she had chosen wisely.
"I do want to say, though," she
offered,
"that if we had met under
different circumstances, and I got to
know you like I have these past weeks,
then I wouldn't feel the same way."
Much to Ginger's own surprise,
she realized
that she actually meant that.
"You don't have to say that," Mary
Ann said.
"Under the circumstances, I
really don't
have a problem with availability."
"No, but I wanted to because it's
true,"
Ginger replied, reaching out
with her hand and brushing back the
locks of hair that had fallen over Mary
Ann's
eyes.
Leaning forward, she kissed the
younger woman softly, just enough to
give her a taste of what could be. It
took a breath, but she felt the brunette
kiss her back.
"That was nice," Mary
Ann said as their lips parted.
"Yes, it was," Ginger
agreed.
"So, what do we do now?" Mary
Ann asked after a long moment's pause.
"Well, I guess we could get off
the floor," Ginger
suggested with a
soft laugh, glancing back toward the
bamboo and thatched grass constructs
that
they slept on.
"You really think once of those
cots is going to hold the both of us?"
Mary Ann asked, alluding to both
their narrow width and fragile
design.
"Like I said," Ginger
said, envying as she did the Howells'
heavier constructed double bed, "I
think
the floor is nice, even if it is covered
with dirt."
"That's easy enough to fix," Mary
Ann said as, rising to her feet, she
pulled
the blankets, which had been rescued
from the Minnow's stores, from their
cots
and draped them across the floor. "Just
like a picnic," she
added with a broad grin.
"I love a practical woman," Ginger
said as she took Mary Ann's hand in
hers and together the two dropped down
to the now covered ground.
Sitting barely inches apart,
their
lips met again in a kiss, this time one
that lasted much longer and drew them
even closer together.
-=-=-=-=-
They shared kiss after kiss,
their
hands slowly running across each other's
bodies, fingers stroking soft, excited
skin.
Ginger took hold of the short,
simple blue nightgown that Mary Ann wore
and began to pull it upward, exposing
the even more enticing flesh beneath it.
Practicality reserved panties for
daytime use, so once the simple
garment was lifted over the brunette's
head, she was totally nude.
It was the first time Ginger had
seen her so, and it was understandable
when she paused for a long moment to
fully take in the previously unseen
beauty to be found there. Mary
Ann's breasts were smaller than Ginger's
but round and firm, with dark, perky
nipples that stood out like pencil
erasers.
Between her legs was a lightly
haired bush, just large enough to cover
her mound.
The rest of her body was that of
a well
developed young woman, one that took
care to watch what she ate and spent
time
with physical activities.
The makeshift nightshirt covering
Ginger took a little more doing to get
off, but Mary Ann was nothing if not
determined. Once
it was gone, her eyes
quickly focused on the actress's large
breasts, and the bright pink nipples of
each.
Her gaze ran down the hourglass
figure, again taking note of what she
already knew – that Ginger was a natural
redhead.
With eager hands, Mary Ann
reached
out and took hold of Ginger's breasts,
squeezing them softly and taking in
their fullness – satisfying a desire she
had felt from the moment she had watched
the movie star climb aboard the Minnow.
Ginger moved into a kneeling
position, allowing the still sitting
Mary
Ann to easily guide the redhead's right
breast to her mouth, taking the nipple
between her lips and drawing on it
deeply.
"Oh, how I've missed this," Ginger
softly moaned, savoring the wet touch
of Mary Ann's tongue as it rolled
against her nipple.
Mary Ann pulled more of Ginger
into
her mouth, alternating between fervent
kisses and soft bites. Her
fingers continued to massage the supple
flesh as she licked her way across to
the redhead's other breast,
enthusiastically repeating her
performance there.
"God, you have such beautiful
breasts,"
Mary Ann softy said as
she paused for but a moment. "I
still
can't believe this is really happening."
"Oh, it's happening, alright," Ginger
replied as she leaned in to kiss Mary
Ann.
"This feels way too good to be
a dream."
The two switched positions and it
was now Ginger's turn to feast on Mary
Ann's mounds, eagerly closing her mouth
around first one nipple, then the other.
The moans that filled the air not
only equaled her own of a few minutes
before, but exceeded them in volume, so
much so that for a second she feared
the sound might carry on such a still
night.
But that worry lasted only a
breath as the thought was quickly pushed
aside by more urgent desires.
Their lips met again, tongues
sliding far into each other's mouths,
exploring the deep wetness. At
the same time, Ginger brought her hand
down along Mary Ann's back and across
her waist to cup each of the cheeks of
her ass.
Mary Ann responded by bringing
her own hands across the redhead's
shoulders, her fingers interlocking at
the
base of her neck.
Their bodies pressed together,
breasts and nipples flattening against
their counterparts. Back
and forth they slowly rocked, still
trading kisses and wet caresses. Excited
hands
roamed up and down their naked forms,
stroking soft flesh and leaving a
trail of tiny delights in their wakes.
Surprisingly, it was Mary Ann who
broke the embrace, stretching out on the
blankets and invitingly spreading her
legs.
It was an invitation Ginger was
quick to accept, crawling into the open
space, starting at the younger woman's
lips before working her way down across
her body.
She stopped at each of her
nipples, kissing
them and running her tongue over them a
few times before again pulling as much
of her into her mouth as was possible.
Back and forth she went, giving
each breast equal attention before
moving down the valley between her
mounds, along her stomach and finally to
the
treasure between the brunette's legs.
Ginger planted a kiss on Mary
Ann's
left thigh, moving inward until she
reached the prize she had dreamed
about.
A soft kiss was followed by a
long lick, running the entire length of
her sex.
Both of which produced an
animated response
from Mary Ann.
"Oh, yes!" she
moaned softly, closing her own hands
around her breasts as she arched her
head backward.
Ginger repeated the gesture a
second
time with just a bit more pressure,
producing
a similar result. Then
she
lifted her head just enough to slide her
hand between it and Mary Ann's sex,
brushing her fingers
along the outer
edge.
"Fuck me, fuck me with your
fingers!"
Mary Ann cried out as she
felt Ginger's touch, urgency in her
voice.
It was apparent to Ginger that
this was
what Samantha used to do for Mary Ann
and she wasn't about to do less. Extending
two fingers on her right hand, she
rubbed them up and down the folds of
Mary Ann's pussy, getting them good and
wet before pushing them inside of her.
"Yes!" Mary
Ann exclaimed.
Moving slowly, at least at first,
Ginger slid her fingers in and out of
Mary Ann, working her way further inward
with each repetition. Once
she was sure
the younger woman was comfortable with
her fingers inside of her, the actress
quickly picked up the pace. She
went on as
the woman beneath her rocked back and
forth with her thrusts. Then,
she moved on to what she was sure Mary
Ann would like even more.
Her mouth tightly pressed up
against
Mary Ann's sex, Ginger worked her tongue
back and forth along the length of it,
all the while rubbing the thumb of her
right hand against the brunette's
clit.
Both actions sent ripples of
delight cascading across the younger
woman's body, causing it to quiver in
response.
"Ooooo," Mary
Ann moaned loudly as the movie star
applied all the little tricks she had
learned on her way to stardom, happy to
share them with the Midwestern farm
girl.
"Was that like Sam did it?" Ginger
asked, momentarily lifting her head to
ask.
"Better," Mary
Ann replied.
Ginger again slid the fingers of
her
other hand into Mary Ann, adding a third
point of pleasure to the mix. An
addition that nearly sent the trembling
girl into orbit. She
continued for what
seemed like the longest moments of the
smaller girl's life, until she felt the
body beneath her begin to shudder with
the first signs of an approaching
orgasm.
"Oh God, oh God… oh…my…God!" Mary
Ann exclaimed as the dam between her
legs burst with ecstatic intensity, the
volume of her cries rising as it did.
Ginger continued her efforts
until
the last vestige of her young lover's
climax finally faded. Then
she slowly lifted herself from between
her legs, bringing as she did her
come-soaked fingers to her lips, where
she
licked them clean.
"That…was…amazing," Mary
Ann said in an appreciative tone,
lifting her own upper body to look at
the woman who had just brought her such
pleasure.
Ginger crawled up over Mary Ann's
body to kiss her again, sharing the
fruits of her climax. It
was a gift Mary Ann eagerly accepted,
wiping the redhead's lips clean with her
own.
Slowly, taking their time, they
kissed each other again and again,
whispering tiny expressions of joy.
"Was that as good as Samantha?" Ginger
asked.
"Who?" Mary
Ann smiled, then softly laughed.
As they continued to kiss, Mary
Ann
lifted herself higher so that she could
again bring her mouth to Ginger's
bounty.
The memory of the Saturday
afternoons she had watched the starlet
on the big screen at the local movie
house, admiring the near perfect breasts
that she now suckled on, filled her
with renewed excitement.
"Oh baby, you do that so nice," Ginger
said as she ran her hand along the
back of Mary Ann's head.
As she continued to lick Ginger's
breasts, Mary Ann brought her hand down
between the taller woman's legs, rubbing
the flat of her fingers against the
heavier haired mound. The
passage within was so wet that it took
no
effort at all to slide three fingers in
well past her knuckles. A
penetration that was repeated again and
again with each passing breath.
"Mmmmmm," Ginger
purred with satisfaction.
Mary Ann increased the speed at
which she finger fucked Ginger until her
fingers had become almost a blur. At
the same time, Ginger leaned her body
back, spreading her legs as wide as they
could go as she also reached back with
her arms to brace herself against the
blanket covered ground. In
less time than she would have thought it
possible, the semi-experienced, small
town girl brought her to the edge of her
own orgasm.
Then, just as unexpectedly, Mary
Ann
dropped down between her legs and
replaced her fingers with an equally
determined tongue – reaching deep within
the redhead to touch her sexual
core.
It would only be later that
Ginger
would come to realize that it wasn't the
number of lovers you'd had that really
mattered, it was how often you
practiced. And from the way Mary Ann was
going
at it, she and Samantha had spent a
great deal of time doing just that.
The orgasm that took hold a short
time later was definitely the best she'd
had in a long time, including those
she'd enjoyed back in the real world.
Her body quaked with intense
ferocity as week's worth of frustration
exploded with unparalleled force.
"You are amazing," Ginger
said through hesitant breaths once her
body finally stopped quaking. "And
to
think I've been sleeping just a few feet
away from you every night."
But Ginger wasn't one to show her
appreciation with just words. She
quickly
reassumed the superior position and
interlocked their bodies so that
now their mounds were pressed tightly
together.
With a vitality fueled by
passion, she began to rub them against
each
other, fucking Mary Ann in much the way
as a man would, her mound taking the
place of
a cock.
This was new to Mary Ann, but she
quickly caught on, moving her own body
to give as good as she was
receiving.
They rocked back and forth,
filling both their bodies with a fevered
passion. Sweat ran down their backs
despite the coolness of the night, the
fires raging in their breasts matched,
then exceeded by the ones in their
mounds.
A second, more powerful orgasm
ripped through Ginger's body, followed
close behind by a similar one in Mary
Ann's.
They held each other tight until
the last bit of strength faded from
their arms and they collapsed exhausted
onto the ground. Neither
had the desire
to move, so they just let sleep overtake
them where they laid.
-=-=-=-=-
They woke to the sound of Mr.
Howell banging on the door to their hut,
inquiring as to when they might be
expecting breakfast. Thankfully,
the older man hadn't thought to
glance through the window when he'd
initially gotten no answer to his first
inquiry.
"I'll be out in a bit," a
still naked Mary Ann cried, her
eyes locking on Ginger's and the smile
on
her face.
Ginger waited until she could
hear
the receding steps of the Howells before
speaking, but that didn't prevent her
from leaning over and softly kissing
Mary Ann on the lips.
"That was …." she
said.
"Yes, it was," Mary
Ann agreed.
They quickly got to their feet
and,
wetting two cloths with water from the
bamboo coolers the professor had
designed, washing each other off as best
they could. That
took a lot longer than it should've as
neither wanted to stop touching the
other.
It was only Mary Ann's suggestion
that Mr. Howell might come back that
brought their play to an end.
By the time the Skipper, Gilligan
and the Professor returned from the
other side of the island, the girls had
taken the time to shower and make
themselves more presentable. As
far as their fellow castaways were
concerned, nothing had changed – even
though it obviously had.
A short time later, Ginger
surprised
Mary Ann by convincing the Skipper and
Gilligan to build the two of them an
actual bed, one as large as the Howells
and just as sturdy. Not
to be outdone, Mary Ann took the
Professor aside and confided that a
woman sometimes needed to find a little
release now and then. While
he had never
understood such things, he was willing
to design a phallic substitute that she
could use, assuring her of his
discretion in the matter.
When he wondered aloud if he
should
also make one for Ginger, Mary Ann was
quick to assure him that one would be
quite
enough as she was more than willing to
share.