One of my favorite old-time TV shows is Gilligan’s Island. Every Saturday morning, I sit back in my Lay-Z- Boy recliner, sip on my Bailey’s and coffee, and watch the Bouncing Beauties Sitcom Power Hour on my favorite YouTube channel, Classic Television Titties. The channel is dedicated to classic TV shows with hot babes in skimpy outfits, including two of the best-looking broads on the small screen, Mary Ann and Ginger.
Now for those of you that are too young to know about classic TV, Gilligan’s Island is about a group of idiots that get marooned on a deserted Island. There’s Gilligan, a mentally challenged man-boy obviously on the spectrum. The Skipper, a grotesquely obese abuser with a stupid hat. The Professor, an asexual nerdy science type. Mr. Howell, a rich capitalist, presumably from Florida, and his annoying wife Mrs. Howell (man, can I relate to annoying wives).
Lastly, there’s Ginger and Mary Ann. Ginger is a tall sexy redhead actress with gravity defying dairy pillows, and Mary Ann is a short brunette girl-next-door type with two perky polo pumpkins who enjoys making cream pies and baring her midriff.
There isn’t a man alive who’s seen the show and not bludgeoned the beefsteak to one or both of these bodacious babes. I’ve definitely spilled more seed thinking about Mary Ann because she always seemed like the biggest whore on the island, but I’ve pounded the pink pony to Ginger a handful of times as well. Hell, I’ve even made the bald man puke to Mrs. Howell once or twice, although I won’t say I’m proud of it.
One of my favorite pastimes is daydreaming about what it would be like to be stranded on an island with one or two horny single women with nothing to do other than drink from their coconuts and teach them how to ride the bamboo golf cart.
It turns out that dreams sometimes come true.
It all started last June. My best friend from high school, Terry, who lives in South Carolina, came to visit for a week. He was accompanied by his wife, Penny and their nineteen-year-old daughter, Lorna.
Penny and Terry are a bit more traditional than my wife, Margaret, and I. Hell, I think they even go to church. Terry got married pretty young and you could say his wife rules the roost. While I maintained my dignity and my luscious full head of hair, Terry sacrificed his manhood and lost most of his hair, probably because of Penny’s constant nagging and surly disposition.
Penny’s fashion style is designed around destroying boners. I’m surprised that Terry was able to keep his pocket mongoose hard for long enough to deposit his seed in his wife’s icy cooter cave, but I’m not one to pry into a friend’s personal business.
While Penny is no fan of my keen wit and often turns her nose up when I make a funny, at least Terry somehow maintained his sense of humor. I guess laughter is better than divorce when you have a kid.
Unfortunately, their daughter Lorna took after her mother. With a perpetual scowl on her chubby face and baggy clothes, Lorna looks like she’s considering a career in virginity.
When they arrived at the house, we sat around the living room catching up and watched the Miami Dolphins play the Dallas Cowboys. At one point, the camera panned to one of the Dallas cheerleaders, her pom poms shaking so hard it looked like they were about to spill out all over the Astroturf.
“Holy hell, Terry,” I said, “Will you look at those Julius Squeezers! Now there’s a tight end I’d like to blitz!”
My wife punched me in the shoulder. Terry laughed but Penny looked disgusted. Lorna lifted her head out of her phone for a split-second with a stupid look on her face like she was trying to make sense out of a Kanye West tweet.
When Terry and his family visit, I take them out fishing in my boat. Terry and Penny enjoy fishing for some reason. Fishing for me is all about drinking beer and checking out bikini-clad bombshells hanging out in the marina, where I’m a bit of a legend for my charm and good looks. Most men in their 40s are well past their prime but it’s obvious to all the lonely housewives that I’m just getting started.
Our fishing trip was planned for Saturday morning. When I got home from work on Friday, everyone was out of the house, so I took advantage of the quiet to participate in a game of tug-of-war with cyclops.
My jerkin’ Jurgens was in the upstairs bathroom. When I went to retrieve it, I noticed a phone sitting by the commode. Unsure whether it was Margaret’s or one of the guests, I picked it up, surprised that it was already on and unlocked.
I figured the quickest way to find out who it belonged to was to open the photos. Much to my surprise, the pictures were all of Lorna. There was an album entitled, “Florida trip,” so I opened it.
The photos were taken from my upstairs guest bedroom. The first few were of Lorna dressed in a tight-fitting tank top and black lacy panties. The photos were shocking but not because they were particularly racy. I was shocked because my best friend’s frumpy teenage daughter actually looked sexy.
Lorna was definitely chubby but in a teenage baby fat kind of way. She was average height but curvy, with thick thighs and a plump ass that spilled out of her underwear. Lorna’s big brown eyes, long dirty blonde hair, and full lips were standard fare for a teenager. Most surprising was her ridiculously massive milk melons that seemed to defy the physical limitations of a cotton tank top.
Fuck me in the ass, I thought to myself. If only I could see Lorna’s shirt potatoes after they’re peeled!
A few swipes later, my dreams came true. In the photo, Lorna has her top lifted above the biggest pair of pontoons I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’m not even sure there is an official bra size for blouse balloons of such magnitude. I began to wonder whether NASA had categorized the gravitational pull of Lorna’s twin mammary moons.
No wonder she wears baggy clothes!
The more photos I scrolled through, the better they got. Apparently, Lorna was exploring her naughty side because there were photos of her totally nude and even spreading her pussy, which was plump and meaty like the rest of her body.
Then I saw a thumbnail for a video.
It started with her talking to the camera as though it were an audience.
“I have to be quiet because I’m on vacation with my family and they’re in another room.”
Lorna then proceeds to get totally naked, spread her legs, and fuck herself with a massive dildo while pinching her nipples and playing with her milk mountains. Watching a giant penis-shaped hunk of silicone slide in and out of Lorna’s tiny teenage honey bucket made my jackhammer hard enough to pulverize concrete.
After whipping it out, I sat on the toilet and practiced the five-finger shuffle while watching Lorna’s entire video. It became obvious to me that she had some kind of video channel where she performed for monetary donations. She even mentioned some of the online audience members by name.
The crescendo of the video showed Lorna on all fours, her chesticles hanging down almost to the bed, swaying with every thrust of her hips as she fucked a dildo with a suction cup that was attached to the headboard.
I came so hard, I thought my splooge was going to reach terminal velocity and escape Earth’s gravitational pecker pull.
Just as my banana batter began running down the shower curtain, there was a knock at the door.
Fuck me in the ass!
It seemed as though someone else was at home, and I had a pretty good idea who it was.
I answered the knock with, “Who is it?” while stuffing my trim tickler back into my pants and clumsily trying to wipe my man smoothie off the shower curtain.
“It’s Lorna. I think I left my phone in there.”
I couldn’t be sure if Lorna had heard me playing the video. It wasn’t loud but Florida homes aren’t known for their high-quality construction standards and the walls were thinner than Kiera Knightly in a corset.
“Oh yeah, I see it. Hold on a sec while I finish freshening up.”
Upon exiting the bathroom, Lorna was waiting in the hallway. Handing her the phone, I couldn’t help but try to make out the slightest hint of her mommy melons poking and pressing against her oversized sweatshirt.
Alas, my effort was to no avail. Lorna took her phone and scampered off to her bedroom, presumably to play a one-string melody on her gash guitar for her adoring fans.
Being honest, and I always am, the thought of chubby little Lorna tickling her taco in my guest bedroom made me hornier than a lonely housewife at a high school football game.
Live and let live is my motto. If the girl wants to earn some cash by showing off her goodies, more power to her. There are far worse ways to make a living. Just ask anyone working at IKEA.
That night I was lying in bed watching a rerun of The Love Boat on TV. It was an episode with Charo dancing around like she found a brick of cocaine in her balcony suite. The sight of her Twin Peaks bouncing around like two overfilled water balloons reminded me of Lorna’s video and made my Undercover Brother harder than sitting through an episode of Friends.
Of course, my wife noticed. Pointing at the tent pole under the comforter, Margaret said, “Oh wow, Nick, you must be thinking back to our wedding day! Do you want to use that thing or are you going to rub one out to this week’s celebrity guest?”
“Charo isn’t my type but at least I can turn off the TV when I don’t want to hear her talk.”
Margaret wrapped her hand around Long Dong Silver and said, “Oh, come on, Nick. Stick it in me and pretend you’re on the Love Boat shoving your dinghy into Cruise Director Julie’s lifeboat.”
“It sounds more like a ride on the Titanic.”
But, like the Titanic, there was nothing I could do to stop my veiny vessel from crashing into my wife’s iceberg. Little did she know that I wasn’t thinking about Julie, Daisy Duke, Mary Ann or any other classic TV gash. While my white whale was destroying my wife’s pleasure boat, my fantasy revolved around sticking my sea cucumber in between Lorna’s Little Mermaids.
Saturday rolled around and everyone was in the living room ready to head to the marina for a day of fishing. Everyone except Lorna. Her parents said she likely didn’t want to go and suggested we leave without her.
“She’s probably got her face buried in that phone again,” said her mother, with a look on her face that reminded me of someone sitting on the toilet after eating bad Mexican food.
I assumed she was doing another one of her shows, so I shrugged, and we left.
My wife, Terry, and Penny caught a bunch of fish while I sipped on beer and spied on a hot little number tanning topless on the deck of another boat anchored right next to ours.
Margaret caught me eyeballing the young woman’s flesh bobbers through a pair of binoculars and said, “Jesus fucking Christ, Nick, you came all the way out here in the Gulf to perv on unsuspecting sunbathers?”
“Can you shut the fuck up? I’m appreciating nature… Plus, you’re going to scare the fish.”
Terry laughed but Penny looked even more disgusted than normal, which slightly improved her looks.
When we arrived back at my house, Lorna was waiting in the living room. It was obvious she’d been crying. When her mother asked what the matter was, all hell broke loose.
We quickly learned that Lorna walked down the stairs mere minutes after we left, ready to enjoy a sunny day on the water.
After some noise, she started crying again and said to her parents, “You left without me! You don’t even want me around!”
Fuck me in the ass! The only person allowed to cry in this house is my wife!
Stepping in, I said, “This is all my fault. Lorna, I tell you what, I’ll take you out on the boat tomorrow morning to make it up to you. We can all go together to make up for today.”
My quick thinking did the trick and seemed to placate Lorna. Terry thanked me later and said, “She’s been very sensitive ever since her cat, Puss Puss died.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell my best friend that his daughter’s puss puss was far from dead!
The next morning, Margaret wanted to sleep in, so she backed out of the fishing trip. Lorna was ready to go by nine, but Terry came downstairs still dressed in his pajamas and said he and Penny had the shits and wouldn’t be able to go.
Terry said, “Penny and I ate some ice cream out of your fridge last night and we think it may be bad.”
I said, “Fuck me in the ass, Terry! That ice cream has been in there since George W was president! Turns out, neither Margaret nor I like pistachio or stupid world leaders.”
Just saying the word pistachio made Terry reach for his asshole and run back up the stairs.
I turned to Lorna and said, “Well, it’s you and me, kid. If you still wanna go…”
Lorna smiled and said, “Absolutely!”
It was the first time I’d seen her smile. I’d seen her plunge a dildo into her vertical smile a few hundred times but had never seen the face-forward version.
As we motored out of the Marina, Lorna said she didn’t care about fishing and wondered if I knew any places we could explore.
I said, “A woman after my own heart! I would rather get a root canal than handle a pole all day. Let’s tool around for an hour or two and see where fate takes us.”
Lorna smiled yet again and I had to admit that the young girl was starting to grow on me. When she took off her sweatshirt and sweatpants to reveal the tiny bikini underneath, my one-eyed wonder worm also started to grow on me.
Lorna’s sand dollars were so massive, her bikini top was barely able to cover her nipples and areola. My jaw immediately came unhinged from my face and fell to the floor as my tongue unrolled and foghorn sounds echoed through the humid Florida air.
Her tight bikini bottoms outlined a camel toe that would have caused Ali Baba to become a flying carpet muncher. Her G-string bikini bottoms were entirely enveloped by Lorna’s substantial white ass. Every step she took walking around the cabin made her butt cheeks jiggle like that Jell-O dessert everyone avoids at Christmas dinner.
“Holy hell, Lorna, are you sure you’re not overdressed?”
Lorna giggled, obviously accustomed to her body getting attention, online at least.
“I don’t get to wear bikinis at home. My mother won’t let me. I’m glad my parents didn’t come because now I won’t have to be hot all day.”
Nodding in approval, I said, “Well, you do you, honey. But in that outfit, you’re definitely going to be hot all day.” Then I pulled a beer out of my cooler and cracked it open.
Reaching it out to Lorna, I said, “Do you want a beer?”
“I’m not twenty-one.”
“And I’m not a cop. Plus, I think these are international waters now. We can go nuts.”
Lorna smiled, grabbed the beer out of my hand, and took a sip.
After running for couple hours, I anchored in seventy feet of water about twenty miles offshore. Within a half hour, it was so hot I thought my balls were going to audition for the Swamp Thing reboot. Lorna was lying face up on the bow of the boat wearing a pair of sunglasses.
I suggested we go swimming and Lorna jumped in the water without hesitation. We swam around for a while when I noticed the sky was turning dark. I’d been so focused on my best friend’s daughter's buoyant blubber bouncers that I’d stopped paying attention to the clouds that had been forming on the horizon.
By the time we were back in the boat, the weather started getting rough. There was a massive thundercloud rapidly heading toward us and lightning was starting to pop around the boat.
There was no way we could get back to the marina before the storm hit so I aimed the bow at a small island about two miles to the east and pushed hard on the throttle.
We were heading in the same direction as the wind, which caused the boat to launch off the backside of the waves. Lorna was standing right next to me, her tits bouncing so hard that they fell entirely out of her bikini top. She was using both hands to keep steady, so there was no way she could stuff them back in or cover them up.
Fuck me in the ass! Thank you, Jesus!
The air had cooled considerably because of the storm and Lorna’s wet nipples were rock-hard. Usually, massive marangos come adorned with tiny nipples but Lorna’s high beams were just as brilliant as her headlights.
Mesmerized by the most deliciously decadent pair of teenage torpedoes I’d ever seen with my naked eyes, the log in my pants started to grow. Unfortunately, the teenage triple-D distraction to my left prevented me from seeing see the real-life log in the water.
There was a hard thump against the hull and the engine suddenly stopped. My tiny ship was tossed and began bobbing in the waves. When my boat started listing to port, I knew we were in trouble. Before I could radio for help or grab either of our phones, the entire console was underwater.
Rain started coming down in sheets. Fortunately, the island was only a little more than a hundred yards away.
Tossing Lorna a life preserver, I said, “Well, we are going to have to swim for the island. Are you a good swimmer?”
Lorna, who didn’t seem worried at all said, “I was on my high school girls swim team.”
By the time we reached the island my boat was gone, and all that was left was some flotsam floating in the water. Fortunately, I had good insurance. The rain was still coming down pretty hard but clear skies were on the horizon.
Lorna and I sat under a stand of palm trees. Her bikini top met the same fate as my boat. Lorna had her arms wrapped around herself to keep warm, but she was still shivering. Had I been wearing a shirt, I would have offered it to her.
It suddenly dawned on me that nobody knew where we were. Still, I figured we would be able to wave down a passing boat and get a ride back to the marina once the weather improved.
Being the gentleman I am, I said, “You okay, Lorna? That was quite an adventure.”
Lorna half smiled and said, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little cold is all.”
I took a quick look around to see if there was anything that could be of use. It didn’t take long because the entire island was no bigger than a football field.
Fuck me in the ass! No phone, no lights, no motorcar. Not a single luxury!
All I managed to find was an old rusty crab trap, a shoe, and some broken beer bottles. Walking back toward Lorna, I spotted the butt end of a lighter poking out of a pile of seaweed. Shockingly, it worked, even though the metal parts were a bit rusty.
The rain stopped, and after gathering some driftwood, I made a small fire on the beach to keep warm. Lorna thanked me profusely, but I should have thanked her because she stretched out her arms to warm her hands, which meant her magnificent coconuts were back on full display.
We struck up a conversation and Lorna told me about her domineering mother and how she wouldn’t let her move out into a dorm because Peggy was afraid her daughter would make “poor life choices.”
She added, “My mother doesn’t know a lot of things about me.”
I said, “Look, I’m not the best guy to give a teenager advice but you need to move out and start living your own life. Your mom may say she has it all figured out but none of us adults have any idea what we’re fucking doing.”
It was the closest I’d ever come to being philosophical.
About an hour later, I noticed my cooler floating in the ocean only 50 feet from shore. I swam out to retrieve it. We shared a Cuban sandwich and drank a couple bottles of water before I cracked open two beers and toasted to good luck, which made Lorna laugh.
Even though the rain didn’t return, the waves never settled down. When the sun started to set, I said, “They’re probably just getting around to calling the cops to report that we’re missing. That means we’re likely stranded on this pile of sand until morning.”
To her credit, Lorna didn’t seem upset or concerned in the least bit. I guess when your life sucks ass, anything is better than being home, even if you’re stranded on an island with an attractive older man that could be your father.
When it was dark, Lorna’s young body was lit by nothing more than the firelight – every curve of her glorious body highlighted with an orange glow. If she hadn’t been my best friend’s daughter, I would have done everything possible to drop my man-pole into her honey hole.
After handing Lorna another beer, I had to ask, “You ever see Gilligan’s Island?”
“No. What’s that?”
“It’s a classic TV show. Seven dumbasses get marooned on a deserted island and have to figure out how to live. They make bamboo cars and bamboo washing machines and bamboo record players, and bamboo radios… You get the idea.”
Lorna laughed, “It sounds silly.”
“Oh, it’s silly as fuck. You kind of remind me of Mary Ann. She’s a young farm girl with big brown eyes.”
“Nick, can I ask you something?”
Assuming Lorna was going to ask me for more of my philosophical wisdom, I said, “Sure! Ask me anything!”
“Did you watch the video on my phone?”
I’m not one to beat around the bush unless I’m literally beating off on a broad's bush. Totally busted, I said, “Yeah, I watched it. In my defense, I was trying to figure out whose phone it was, and it was unlocked, but I watched the entire video and loved every fucking second of it.”
My praise made Lorna smile. She said, “I have an OnlyFans account. It lets me earn some spending money, but I actually enjoy it. When I put on a show, it makes me feel free... And attractive. You aren’t going to tell my dad, are you?”
“Never, doll. Your secret is safe with good Ol’ Nick. If you weren’t Terry’s daughter, and I knew what an only-fans was, I would watch every one of your performances."
Lorna looked at me innocently with her big brown eyes, her naked breasts hanging free, and said, “Were you masturbating while you watched it?”
“Damn right I was! I dare any man to set eyes on your bongos and try to not touch his drumstick.”
Lorna sat up straight and twisted her torso back and forth, causing her massive mushmallows to sway back and forth like a drunk stockbroker trying to insert his key in the car door. Giggling, she said, “You mean these?”
My baloney pony was trying to break out of its corral.
Lorna continued, “I used to hate them. I thought they were dirty because my mom always made me hide them. Doing my OnlyFans’ shows made me fall in love with them. Now I like showing them off.”
“Well, I may not be your only fan, but I am your biggest fucking fan.”
Lorna thought for a second and said, “Do you want me to put on a private show for you?”
Fuck me in the ass! Now I know why Gilligan always fucked the castaway’s rescue plan!
I said, “You mean right now?”
Leaning back and spreading her legs, Lorna said, “Do you have anywhere else to be?”
Pulling off my swim trunks, I said, “Nope!” Then I grabbed Free Willy with my hand and got ready for the show.
Lorna said, “Oh wow, Nick, your cock is really thick.”
She pulled off her panties, the firelight exposing the luscious creases of her teenage lady garden and started rubbing the nub with the tip of her index finger. A mischievous grin formed on Lorna’s face, and she spread her flower flaps wide open with two fingers before shoving them deep inside her coin purse, like she was searching for loose change under the couch cushions.
Other than some sand in my ass crack, it was the best thing to happen to me since this Russian dancer at the Stinky Pinky strip club gave me a handy in the VIP room and didn’t get mad when my KGBoner launched Spunknik onto her best pair of pleather boots.
Lorna was getting into it. She threw her head back and cried out into the night air like a feral cat in heat. When she brought her head forward, her eyes were locked onto my cock.
I decided to put on my own show. After teasing the fireman’s helmet, I worked my shaft in long strokes to highlight my rigid seven inches and impressive girth.
Lorna bit her lower lip and said, “I’ve never seen one in real life.”
The words hit me like a sledgehammer.
“Fuck me in the ass! You’re a virgin?”
Still softening her peach, Lorna said, “Well, I guess I am, but I’ve used a dildo a bunch of times.”
“Well, let me tell you honey, you’re considered a virgin until you’ve had the real thing.”
I’ve plowed a lot of fields in my lifetime, but I’ve only ever planted salami seeds in one virgin’s family farm. I was in high school, and her name was Mary Muffintop. She was a Catholic girl who asked me to the Sadie Hawkins dance because a friend of hers told Mary that I had a big dick. We got hot and heavy in the back of my Chevy and Mary told me she wanted me to be the one.
Never having been one to pass on a chance to go clam digging, I made sure Mary had the night of her life. Her meat sleeve was tighter than a pair of Jennifer Lopez’s yoga pants. Best of all, she renounced her faith and ended up doing a few gangbang pornos that I still flog the dolphin to from time to time.
The prospect of introducing another virgin to the carnal delights of raunchy fuck-fun made me hornier than Donald Trump in his daughter’s bedroom.
Batting her big brown eyes at me, Lorna said, “It’s going to get cool tonight. Maybe we should share our body warmth.”
Without hesitation, I said, “Yeah, we don’t want to get hypothermia or anything.”
After gathering a bunch of palm fronds and laying them out on the sand, I sat down with my legs spread apart. Lorna sat with her back against my chest, our bodies pressed together. Her skin was like fire. Then she took my hands and placed them on her beanbags.
Whoever said “more than a handful is a waste” is a stupid fuck. I played with Lorna’s titties like I’d just unwrapped a Lionel train set on Christmas morning. Lorna continued to polish her pearl, leaning her head back onto my shoulder and purring like a kitten.
She took my hand in hers and brought it down to her sausage snuggie. It was hotter than fire and wetter than water. Pinching Lorna’s nipple with one hand, I used the fingers of my other hand to explore her briny deep for sunken treasure. When she moaned, I stuck them in Lorna’s mouth and made her taste her own juices. Then I had a taste for good measure and went back to work.
Whispering in her ear, I said, “By the time we’re rescued, I’m going to own this pussy.”
Lorna shuddered. I edged her close to orgasm a few times before stopping entirely until she was literally whimpering like a spoiled girl whose daddy cut off her allowance.
Lorna rotated her entire body until she was facing me with our legs wrapped around one another, her tits pressing against my chest, my cock twitching against her cunny.
We kissed, lips locked together, our tongues twisted like they were auditioning for Dancing with the Stars. For someone that hadn’t kissed many boys, Lorna was surprisingly good at it.
After three periods of tonsil hockey. I lifted one of Lorna’s sweatshirt shakers and sucked on her nipple like my mouth was an overworked bilge pump. It was like being in heaven but better because I hate harp music.
While I pinched and twisted one nipple with my fingers, I used my lips and tongue to tease the other. Lorna responded with a series of purrs and grunts, her hands grabbing fistfuls of my luscious hair, her body jerking and shaking with every new sensation.
Then something truly amazing happened. Lorna bit down on my neck as her entire body started to vibrate like Michael J. Fox giving an Oscar speech. Her whimpering suddenly changed into a violent scream, and it was so loud, I was sure they heard it in Cuba.
As her orgasm waned, Lorna said, “Oh wow. That’s a first. I didn’t even know it was possible to cum that way.”
I answered, “It’s all about the foreplay, doll. If your partner doesn’t worship these perfect titties, you need to find another lover.”
Lorna was filled with lust and her eyes were boring into mine. Her hips were slowly thrusting back and forth, her slippery slit rubbing against the length of my shaft.
She said, “I want to feel it inside me.”
In that moment, I had second thoughts. Taking my best friend’s daughter’s virginity suddenly seemed like a bridge too far. Certainly, she would be better off finding a boy her own age and discovering the joys of lovemaking organically.
And if you believe that, I have a Florida bridge I’m trying to sell!
I grabbed Lorna’s ass like my life depended on it and lifted her onto my lap, the underside of my pecker pressing firmly against her teenage puff pillow. With total control, I let the head slip inside and slowly worked her body back and forth with my hands until my entire seven inches was firmly buried inside her tight virgin squish mitten.
When I first penetrated her, Lorna gasped to catch her breath. Even though she’d had a number of sex toys inside her taffy puller, it still clenched down like a velvet vice grip around my man-meat. Her body felt the same from the inside as it did the outside – plush, ripe, and decadent.
Once I was entirely enveloped by her dick sharpener, I held Lorna’s body entirely still, rhythmically flexing my cock until her hungry cunt started squeezing back.
Fuck me in the ass! Virgin pussy on a deserted island! Suck it, Gilligan!
Still staring into my eyes, Lorna said, “It hurt a little at first, but this feels incredible.”
Maintaining the same pace to make sure Lorna had time to get used to my thick cock made out of real human flesh, I once again used my mouth to play with her nipples. The effect was almost immediate, but her orgasm was even stronger.
My manhood shot out of Lorna’s penis penitentiary like it had been fired from a Howitzer, along with copious amounts of fuck fluid that made me wonder if I’d breached her dame dam.
Gasping for air, her chest heaving, Lorna said, “Fuck! I’ve squirted before because my fans like it, but it’s never been anywhere near that intense.”
Pushing Lorna down onto her back, I said, “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Pushing my middle leg back inside Lorna’s chocha was easy because she was wetter than an umbrella during a hurricane. For a while, I slid the entire length of my dick in and out of her body, savoring the exquisite comfort of her young tight pussy.
Then I started fucking her. Holding Lorna’s legs apart with my hands against the back of her knees, I pressed my magic stick firmly inside her fun tunnel, pounding my hips into hers until her moaning started to sound like begging.
Shifting my body slightly downward so my cock massaged her g-spot, I used my thumb to polish Lorna’s pearl while the other hand firmly pinched her nipple. Every time she was about to cum, I stopped entirely, which made her eyes open wide, begging me to start again.
After the third time edging her to the point of no return, her non-vocal begging became audible pleading. She said, “Oh god, Nick, please let me cum!”
I’ve never been one to deny a woman her fair share of the fun, so I made Lorna’s teenage dreams come true and gave her the best orgasm of her life.
I’ve had a front row seat for countless female orgasms in my life but watching Lorna lose all control, her baby fat jiggling as every wave of pleasure rippled through her curvaceous body was the stuff of legend. Yet again, my purple-headed cobra blasted out of her birth basket at high velocity, along with enough liquid to flood most coastal cities in America.
Having performed my deflowering duty with due diligence, I did what any self-respecting man would have done and shoved my cock right in between Lorna’s teenage twangers. Like a good girl, she pressed her tidbits together and watched with amazement as I fucked them with wild abandon, my cock head appearing and disappearing over and over in the crease of her magnificent cleavage.
Now, my urge was to fuck Lorna’s titties until I sprayed man sauce all over her chubby cheeks. However, I know a young girl’s first time is supposed to be special, so before I came, I slid back down between her legs and stuck my untamed monkey back inside of Lorna’s organ grinder.
With Mr. Happy’s head pressed firmly against her cervix, I looked into Lorna’s eyes and said, “How does it feel?”
Her chest heaving, Lorna said, “It’s different than I thought it would be…. Better… Way better. Are you going to cum in me?”
“I am.”
“Okay.”
My orgasm was so powerful, the energy could have been used to supply Houston with electricity for three years. Every burst of love liquor blasting into Lorna’s cervix at terminal velocity made her entire body jerk like she was practicing interpretive dance.
Our eyes remained focused on one another long after my waves of orgasm had ebbed. It was fucking hot, and when my cock stayed hard, I knew my work wouldn’t be done until the rescue boat arrived.
After a night spent spilling more seed than a grass farmer, we were finally rescued by a couple of boys in blue working with the Marine Patrol. They were surprised we were in such good spirits and even more surprised by the sight of Lorna’s kalamazoos before they covered her with a blanket and gave her a large sweatshirt to wear.
Even better, back at the marina we were welcomed ashore by the people that love us the most.
Wrapping her arms around me, Margaret said, “Nick, I thought I’d lost you but don’t worry. I didn’t plan on dating again until at least next Wednesday. By the way, is your life insurance payment up to date?”
Fuck me in the ass! It’s good to be loved!
Terry and Penny were so happy to see their daughter, that Penny actually smiled. It was the most hideous thing I’d seen since Margaret’s mother’s teeth fell out into the mashed potatoes during Easter dinner.
When vacation time was over, Lorna gave me a big hug and slipped a note into my pocket as she left the house. It was a website link to her OnlyFans account. A few days later, I logged in and caught the tail of end of a broadcast where Lorna was making herself cum by playing with her nipples.
In that moment, I felt a great sense of pride knowing that I empowered this young girl to blossom into a horny woman willing to explore innovative ways to get off - and make a few dollars while doing it.
Ladies, why give it away for free to some dumb fuck that’s going to treat you like shit when you turn it into a viable business model and have total control over your orgasms? If you need business advice, feel free to send Nick a photo or video and I'll help you get started. If you're lucky, maybe I'll take you on a boat ride to my favorite Florida island.
Later that night, I was watching a rerun of Gilligan’s Island. It was the episode where the castaways hold a beauty competition. In the episode, Mary Ann wears a swimsuit and goes swimming in the lagoon while Gilligan is fishing. Fortunately for the viewer, Gilligan hooks Mary Ann’s swimsuit and rips it off. Then later in the show, she’s wearing a full-on bikini top during the beauty contest.
As I watched Mary Ann’s garbos jiggle and wiggle, my ballsac missile positioned itself for launch. Yet, all I could do was reminisce back to my own shipwreck experience on a deserted island and call up the mental image of my pleasure pump nestled comfortably in between Lorna’s two oversized pumpernickel loaves.
Margaret noticed my bulging member and said, “Jesus fucking Christ, Nick, every time you watch Gilligan’s Islands you get a hard-on for that farmgirl whore. What’s the matter with you?”
“Watching this show makes me appreciate silence and solitude, something I never get around here.”
Unable to resist my swollen member, my wife started playing with it.
She said, “Maybe I can put this to use. What did you and Lorna talk about when you were stranded on that island?”
“Lorna said she’s considering a career in modeling.”
Margaret said, “Isn’t she a little chubby to be a model?”
Pushing my wife’s head toward my tonsil tickler, hoping it would take up the space occupied by her voice, I said, “You shouldn’t body shame, Margaret. For fuck’s sake, go and listen to some Lizzo or something.”
Margaret rolled her eyes and got down to business. After sucking me for all of a minute, she rode me reverse cowgirl so she could fantasize about the pool boy, which was fine by me because my mind was still back on the island.
I’d been wrong about Lorna, and it taught me lesson – never trust a first impression. Make that two lessons - if you’re ever stranded on a deserted island with a nubile young virgin teenager eager to learn about the sexual arts, be like Gilligan and do everything you can to prevent being rescued.
