Andy Cohen on Gilligan's Island

The following is a gay erotic fantasy and is not intended to reflect the actual thoughts, desires, intentions, experiences or preferences of any person mentioned, real or fictional.

*****

Andy Cohen sat within the grove of palm trees, surveying his new surroundings. Just one minute earlier, he had been in a New York TV studio, taking part in a crazy stunt just to placate his producer.

His producer had hooked up with some guy who claimed to have built a working time machine. Andy was supposed to exchange banter with the guy and jokingly try out the device as a segment for his TV show.

But by golly, it must have worked. The inventor said he was going to send Andy back to 1965. Andy wasn't sure if he'd gone back in time, but he knew he was no longer in midtown Manhattan. Andy guessed he was on a small island in the South Pacific.

Just then Andy heard a familiar-sounding voice yell "Skipper! Skipper!" Andy followed the sound and soon saw a recognizable sight: a thin young man wearing a red shirt, blue bell-bottom pants and a white sailor's cap. So the time machine really worked, Andy thought, figuring it had sent him back to 1965 and put him on the set of "Gilligan's Island."

Gilligan continued running toward the lagoon, and Andy followed.

As he neared the lagoon, Andy saw more familiar faces: Thurston and Luvie Howell, Mary Ann, Ginger, the Professor and the Skipper. But he noticed something odd for a mid-60s TV sitcom: Ginger's gown was awfully tight, especially around the bust - it made her already large breasts look even bigger. And Mary Ann's skirt was quite short; if he didn't know about her sweet and innocent apple pie reputation, he would swear she didn't appear to be wearing any panties.

As Andy approached the group, he heard Gilligan say "See? See what I told you, Skipper? Another stranger has dropped in on the island."

"Hi guys," Andy said to the castaways. "Sorry about messing up the shoot."

Thurston and Luvie exchanged quizzical glances.

"The shoot? M'boy, it isn't grouse season," Thurston said.

Andy laughed. "That's great, Mr. Howell. Or should I say Mr. Backus?"

Turning to Ginger, Andy said "I'm so used to knowing you as Ginger, I may forget and call you that instead of Tina Louise."

Ginger's voice had a perplexed tone as she replied "I've never played a character named Tina Louise."

"Same with you, Mary Ann," Andy continued. "When I see your face I think Mary Ann, not Dawn Wells."

"No, I'm from Mineral Wells," Mary Ann corrected. "I don't think there is a Dawn Wells in Kansas."

"This really is a sparse set. Where are all the cameras?" Andy asked.

"Cameras?" Mrs. Howell replied. "Well, Thurston had a 35 millimeter, and Ginger and Mary Ann each had a Brownie, and the Professor had an Instamatic. But they all got submerged in the wreck."

Andy laughed, then he realized Mrs. Howell was serious. And the girls were serious, too, about not recognizing the names Tina Louise and Dawn Wells.

Andy quickly formulated a new theory: the time machine not only sent him back a half-century, but it also sent him to a parallel universe - a universe in which five passengers really did set out on a three-hour tour and end up shipwrecked on a tropical island.

"So, who are you, and how did you get here?" the Professor asked.

"I'm Andy Cohen, and I'm from New York, and I really think I ought to explain how I got here to you privately before I tell the group," Andy told the Professor.

The Professor motioned for Andy to follow him. Once they were out of earshot, Ginger turned to Mary Ann.

"How do you like that," Ginger complained, "I have on my most provocative gown and the new guy wasn't pre-occupied with my breasts."

"And he didn't try to peek under my skirt at my bare pussy," Mary Ann added.

"Let's face it, girls, he's another proper gentleman," Mrs. Howell interjected, her inflection clearly signaling she didn't intend "proper gentleman" as a compliment. "When we got shipwrecked on this island, I know you girls thought you were lucky to be stranded with three men who are aroused by cock rather than pussy. But here you are, months later and still relying on your homemade dildos."

"Well, you have your husband and you're still relying on a homemade dildo, too, Mrs. Howell," Ginger replied.

"Yes, poor Thurston, he's reached the age where it's limp more than it's pointing," Mrs. Howell acknowledged. "But sometimes he can wield that dildo as effectively as he could his stiff cock. Which is certainly more than the Professor, Gilligan or the Skipper would be interested in doing for either of you."

---------------

The Professor opened the door to his hut and motioned for Andy to go in.

After they were inside and seated, Andy started: "How I got here shouldn't be scientifically possible, especially by an amateur inventor who's not connected to a research university, but I'm here, so it is."

"We'll have time for that later," the Professor said. "The most important thing right now is - do you know a foolproof way to patch a hole in a boat?"

"Well, uh," Andy stammered.

"I can rig up a bicycle to charge the radio batteries," the Professor continued, "build a washing machine, develop a geiger counter, come up with a formula for TNT. But I can't figure out a way to patch the hull of the S.S. Minnow that'll keep water out."

"Yeah, that's" Andy started to interject.

"But where are my manners," the Professor changed gears. "You must be uncomfortable running around this island in that suit. Take it off and I'll get you a casual shirt and pants to wear."

The Professor started going through his closet while Andy took off his coat and tie. By the time the Professor had found pants that wouldn't be too big on Andy, Andy had stripped down to his underwear.

"These should be more comfortable," the Professor said as he handed the clothes to Andy.

"But what's this," the Professor's gaze locked on a bulge in front of Andy's briefs. "Looks like a test tube is about to fall out of your BVDs."

The Professor knelt in front of Andy, his face level with Andy's crotch, and looked up at Andy for a signal to proceed.

He grabbed Andy's briefs and pulled them down, then put his mouth on Andy's scrotum and began gently licking his balls. Andy's cock began to get harder, and the Professor began licking the underside of his shaft.

The Professor's tongue moved closer and closer to the tip of the cock, then he opened his mouth and covered the entire head and as much of Andy's shaft as he could swallow.

Andy began slowly pumping his cut cock in and out of the Professor's mouth. The Professor expertly held on to it in his mouth, and twirled his tongue around the shaft to heighten Andy's sensation.

Soon Andy's pumping motion increased and his breathing got heavier, and the Professor prepared to swallow a load of Cohen cum. The Professor hoped that when Andy began ejaculating, his cockhead would be at the tip of the Professor's tongue so he could enjoy the full flavor of Andy's jism.

Andy stopped and pulled out his cock until just the uncut cockhead rested in the Professor's mouth. A tangy flavor began to coat the Professor's taste buds, and he savored the delicious mouthful of Andy's cum.

---------------

Mary Ann carried her basket to the breadfruit grove. She picked breadfruit about the same time each day because the breadfruit trees were next to the clearing where Gilligan hid each afternoon to get his rocks off.

Mary Ann was glad Ginger didn't want to join her in spying on Gilligan. Mary Ann had confided to Ginger about why she picked breadfruit and the erotic treat she witnessed each afternoon. Ginger insisted that Gilligan was just too average looking to interest her, in spite of Mary Ann's description of Gilligan's flaccid cock hanging almost down to his knees.

Just as well, Mary Ann thought, I can enjoy the show better when I'm watching it alone.

Mary Ann sat down in her hiding place near the perimeter of the clearing where she could covertly watch Gilligan. She hiked up her skirt and began playing with her pussy.

Gilligan walked into the clearing and began getting undressed. He took off his pants last and stood for a moment, his soft cock pointing straight down between his legs.

Gilligan lay on his back on the ground. He began rubbing his left nipple with his right hand as his left hand reached down and cupped his balls.

His long cock began to thicken and rise. Gilligan continued gently rubbing his balls, but he stopped rubbing his left nipple and began to squeeze it between the fingertips of his right hand.

After his dick had been pointing upward for a couple of minutes, Gilligan quit pinching his nipple and moved his right hand down to the base of his cock. Still rubbing his balls gently with the palm of his left hand, Gilligan grasped his dick and began slowly moving his right hand up and down the shaft.

As he did every other afternoon, Gilligan took his time in building to a climax. Who was he fantasizing about as he slowly stroked his erection, Mary Ann wondered. She knew it wasn't her or Ginger. Maybe he thought about the Professor. Or maybe it was some cabin boy he'd met in Hawaii years ago.

Gilligan's upper torso tensed and his hand tightened its grip around his cock just before streams of white cream erupted from his piss slit.

Gilligan continued to lie on the ground and bask in the afterglow of his climax, motionless except for his hand absent-mindedly rubbing the cum on his stomach.

Suddenly a sharp voice cut through the air: "GILLIGAN!"

Gilligan opened his eyes and lifted his head to see the Skipper march out of the growth surrounding the clearing.

"You've done it again, Gilligan," the Skipper said in an authoritative voice as he walked toward a stump on the opposite side of the small clearing.

Gilligan stood up, his now-soft cock dangling between his legs. "Skipper," he started to say.

"You know what this means, Gilligan," the Skipper said as he sat on the stump.

Gilligan walked over to where the Skipper was sitting and lay face down across the older man's legs. The cum on his stomach began soaking through the Skipper's pant leg. Gilligan's flaccid cock began growing again from the friction caused by rubbing against the Skipper's lap.

The Skipper massaged the compact round globes of Gilligan's ass. Then he raised his hand and SMACK - brought it down hard against his little buddy's butt.

The Skipper's hand left a red mark on Gilligan's right ass cheek. The Skipper resumed rubbing his hand across Gilligan's bare bottom as he said "You've got to be punished, little buddy."

Once again the Skipper raised his hand, held it in the air for a second, then brought it down hard on Gilligan's ass - SMACK!

Gilligan's cock stiffened within its confinement, signaling his growing arousal from the spanking. Despite having just emptied two balls worth of cum, a couple of drops of pre-cum emerged from his piss slit and soaked into the Skipper's pants.

The Skipper continued to alternate between smacking and massaging Gilligan's ass cheeks until Gilligan couldn't stand it any longer. "Please, Skipper, let me cum again," he begged.

The Skipper stopped rubbing Gilligan's butt. "OK, Gilligan, if you can't wait any longer," he paused for a second before dramatically adding, "you may jack off now."

Gilligan stood in front of his sitting superior, his long cock jutting straight out.

Gilligan reached down and began rubbing his cock, using a faster motion this time. The Skipper gazed intently at the tip of the meat torpedo pointing at him, eagerly anticipating its eruption.

Gilligan began breathing harder. He closed his eyes and moaned "here it comes, Skipper," as he shot streams of jism across the big man's shirt.

---------------

As a tropical evening descended on the island, in the Howell's hut Luvie lay on the couple's homemade queen-size bed wearing only a black lace nightgown, her legs spread apart. Thurston stood at the foot of the bed, wielding a long stick with a crude dildo tied to one end that he jabbed at his wife's pussy.

In the girl's hut, Ginger had won rock-paper-scissors, which meant Mary Ann had to put on a strap-on dildo and make Ginger think she was in Troy Donahue's bed back in L.A.

In the third hut, Gilligan lay naked in the top hammock while the Skipper lay in the hammock below, jacking his stiff 5-inch cock through the open fly of his pants while he stared at Gilligan's bare, and still slightly red, rump.

And in the Professor's hut, Andy and the Professor chatted as they lay on the Professor's handmade equivalent of a king-size bed. Andy had followed the Professor's suggestion that they sleep in the raw to enjoy the tropical breezes flowing over their nude bodies.

After a few minutes of small talk, the two men said goodnight and Andy rolled over on his side, facing away from the Professor.

Andy listened to what sounded like the Professor trying to find a comfortable position to go to sleep. The crude mattress undulated as if the Professor was moving over to Andy's side.

Andy felt the Professor's body press against his back. The Professor threw his arm across Andy.

Andy moved back slightly to signal to the Professor that he was OK with spoons cuddling. He felt the Professor's breath against his neck and the tip of the Professor's stiffening cock within the base of his ass crack.