Mary Ann blows Gilligan

Gilligan couldn't believe this was happening. Sweet Mary Ann was half-naked before him, her skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. He lowered his head and tentatively kissed her breast, drawing a gasp from her lips.

"That feels wonderful," she encouraged, running her fingers through his hair.

Emboldened, he took her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak. Mary Ann arched against him, pressing her hips against his straining erection.

Her hands slid down to his pants again, tugging them down his hips. Gilligan stepped out of them awkwardly, nearly tripping in his eagerness. Mary Ann giggled, but there was no mockery in it—just affection that made his chest tighten.

"Let's lie down," she suggested, already reaching for the hem of her skirt.

Gilligan hurriedly spread his shirt on the jungle floor, creating a makeshift blanket for them. Mary Ann stepped out of her skirt and panties. Both naked, they laid on top of the shirt in the sand.

Mary Ann scooted between Gillian’s legs, gazing intensely at his large cock, at least 8 inches. “Wow, you’re packing some serious meat there, mister.” Then she licked up the length of it from his balls to the tip, which she swallowed like a plum.

Gilligan nearly fainted as a wave of pleasure crashed through his body. He'd never felt anything so intense in his life—not during storms at sea, not when winning carnival prizes back home, not even when the Skipper had praised him that one time. Mary Ann's mouth was warm and wet, and when she looked up at him with those innocent farm-girl eyes while doing something so decidedly not innocent, his hips bucked involuntarily.

"G-gosh, Mary Ann," he stammered, his fingers digging into the soft earth beside his shirt.

She released him with a soft pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to the tip of his manhood. "Do you like that, Gilligan?" she asked, her voice husky with desire.

"Like it? I think I'm seeing stars!" His head fell back against the jungle floor as she took him in her mouth again, this time deeper. The warm, humid air of the jungle wrapped around them like a blanket, intensifying every sensation.

Mary Ann's hand worked in tandem with her mouth, stroking the base of his shaft while her tongue swirled around the head. Gilligan bit his lip to keep from crying out—the last thing they needed was for the Skipper or the Professor to come investigating strange noises in the jungle.