An erotic Gilligan’s Island story by Gurgurant
"Would you look at that, Ginger!" exclaimed Mary Ann, her eyes lighting up as she pointed to a patch of berries on the dense foliage.
Ginger, in her usual pink floral sarong, sighed dramatically. "Oh darling, do we really have to?" she asked, fanning herself with a giant leaf.
Mary Ann, unfazed by the heat and dressed in her signature shorts and a midriff-baring top, put her hands on her hips. "Come on, Ginger," she said with a laugh, "it's not like we're going to a soiree."
Ginger reluctantly followed, her heels sinking into the soft sand with every step. They had been scavenging for food all day, their usual routine on this uncharted island. The berries looked ripe and juicy, a welcome change from their usual coconut diet. As they approached the bush, the rustling of leaves grew louder. Suddenly, a shadow fell over them. They looked up to see a towering figure, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that had nothing to do with berries.
The cannibal had been watching them from a safe distance, his heart racing at the sight of the two delicate females. His thoughts grew darker, and he decided it was time to make his move. With surprising agility, he leaped from the tree, landing between the two startled women. His massive frame blocked out the sun, casting an eerie silence over the area. The cannibal's eyes locked on Mary Ann, looking her up and down with his teeth bared in a twisted grin.
Mary Ann, with her dark brown hair cascading over her sun-kissed shoulders and her toned belly peeking out from her top, was the picture of temptation. Her skin looked soft and tender, and he could almost taste the sweetness of her flesh. His eyes raked over her, noticing the way her pulse quickened in fear, making her seem all the more appetizing. The cannibal felt his mouth water as he imagined feasting on her, the way her tender muscles would give way to his teeth, the flavor of her fear mixing with the richness of her body.
Her eyes grew wide with terror as she took in the creature standing before her. The cannibal's body was adorned with intricate tattoos, his muscles rippling beneath his tanned skin. The necklace of human teeth around his neck sent a shiver down her spine. His eyes, though, were what truly terrified her. They were cold and calculating, the hunger in them unmistakable.
"W-we mean no harm," Mary Ann stammered, her voice quivering. She took a step back, trying to put some distance between herself and the towering threat. "We're just... we're just looking for food."
The cannibal's grin widened, revealing more of his sharp, yellowed teeth. He didn't speak their language, but he knew that word: “Food”. His eyes lit up at the mention of the word.
“Food”, he repeated, licking his lips as he looked Mary Ann up and down. Food, indeed, he thought. He reached out a meaty hand, grabbing Mary Ann's arm with surprising gentleness. She gasped, trying to pull away, but his grip was like iron.
Ginger, for her part, felt a strange twinge of jealousy. It was always Mary Ann, with her wholesome good looks and down-to-earth demeanor, who stole the spotlight. Everyone on the island, from the Professor's admiring glances to the Howell's patronizing nods, seemed to prefer her sweet nature and practicality over Ginger's glamour and sass. Now, even this savage creature had eyes only for her friend. The feeling passed quickly, as Ginger watched in shock as the native produced a coil of crude rope, which he tied around Mary Ann’s hands, binding her tightly. A flash of anger surged through Ginger, and she stepped forward, ready to fight for her companion.
But then, a crazy idea struck her. If she could distract this brute, maybe they could escape together. Drawing on her years of experience in Hollywood, Ginger put on her best seductive pout and fluttered her eyelashes. "Why don't you untie her?" she purred, her voice dripping with sweetness that could make honey seem bitter. "I'm sure we can all be friends."
"Besides", she added, "I hear that redheads taste the best."
The cannibal paused, his grip on Mary Ann loosening slightly as he cast a curious gaze at Ginger. He had never seen a creature like her before, with her fiery hair and skin as pale as the moon. He considered her offer, his eyes wandering over her body, taking in her curves and the way her chest heaved with every breath she took. He licked his lips, weighing his options.
Mary Ann's eyes met Ginger's, and she understood immediately. With a silent nod, she stood as still as she could, bracing herself for the cannibal's touch. He lifted her up as if she weighed nothing at all and held her body up to his face, his hot breath on her stomach, and licked her belly gently. The sensation was strange and terrifying, but she forced herself to stay calm. He hummed in appreciation, his tongue lingering on her soft flesh.
The cannibal then set Mary Ann back on her feet and turned to Ginger, who took a deep breath and leaned in, offering her belly with a seductive smile. He took a tentative taste, his eyes never leaving hers. Ginger felt the roughness of his tongue against her skin, and she had to suppress a shiver of revulsion. He seemed to consider her flavor for a moment before nodding in satisfaction.
"Well, what's it gonna be, big fella?" Ginger asked, her voice still sweet but now edged with a hint of urgency. "I've got to tell you, I'm pretty delicious myself."
The cannibal looked from one to the other, his expression unreadable. Mary Ann's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. The Professor had taught them about different island cultures, and she recalled that cannibals sometimes had rituals before a... meal. Maybe, just maybe, they could use this to their advantage.
"You know what?" she whispered to Ginger, her voice steady despite the fear. "I think he's just deciding which one of us to eat."
Ginger's eyes went wide, but she didn't pull away. “Do you really think so?" she shot back, though she couldn't deny the sinking feeling in her stomach. The way the giant native was eyeing them up, it wasn't hard to imagine.
"It's not absurd, Ginger. Remember what the Professor said about the island's history?" Mary Ann whispered urgently, her voice low enough that the cannibal couldn't understand.
Ginger's eyes grew even wider, her mind racing. "You think he's... tasting us?" she gasped, her voice barely audible. The thought was too horrific to fully comprehend.
Mary Ann nodded, her eyes never leaving the cannibal's face. "It's certainly a possibility," she murmured. "We need to stay calm and find a way out of this."
Ginger swallowed hard, trying to push down the bile rising in her throat. "But... but what do we do?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Mary Ann took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving the cannibal's. "We need to play along," she murmured. "Until we can think of a plan."
The cannibal, meanwhile, was in his own world of thoughts. His tongue had tasted the sweetness of both women, but there was something about Mary Ann's flavor that called to him. Her flesh was untouched by sourness, unlike the bitter taste of the red-haired one's vanity. He savored the memory of her skin on his tongue, his mind racing with thoughts of the feast she would make. The scent of her filled his nose, a tantalizing aroma that made his stomach growl.
He leaned in closer to her, his eyes half-lidded with hunger. His hand slid up her arm, his thumb brushing against the soft skin of her inner elbow. Mary Ann's breath hitched, but she remained still, her eyes never leaving his. He licked her belly again, this time more deliberately, his tongue tracing a path along her navel and down to the waistband of her shorts. Her pulse quickened, and she could feel his eyes on her, watching every reaction.
Ginger, her mind racing, took a step closer. "Why don't you let her go?" she asked, her voice still sugared with a fake sweetness. "I'm right here." She leaned back, pushing out her own belly slightly. "See?” She patted her own belly. “Plump and juicy, just the way you like it."
The cannibal's gaze flickered back to her, his eyes narrowing. He didn't move for a moment, considering, before finally releasing Mary Ann and shifting his focus back to Ginger. His hand slid from Mary Ann's arm to Ginger's waist, his grip tightening slightly. He bent down and took another long lick, his tongue tracing a wet line up her belly to her ribs. Ginger forced herself not to gag, keeping her eyes on his, her expression one of feigned submission.
Mary Ann's mind raced as she took a step back, her eyes darting around for anything she could use to cut the ropes binding her wrists. The jungle floor was littered with debris - fallen leaves, branches, rocks - but nothing sharp enough to sever the thick vines. She had to get back to camp, to the others. They had to know what was happening.
The cannibal's attention was fully on Ginger now, his eyes devouring her as his tongue explored her trembling flesh. He seemed to have forgotten about the taste of Mary Ann's belly, lost in the thrill of his new prize. Ginger's pulse pounded in her ears, the taste of bile rising in her mouth as she felt his hot breath against her skin. She had to keep him focused on her, away from her friend.
Mary Ann saw her chance. With a sudden burst of strength, she pulled away from the cannibal's grip and sprinted into the jungle, her bare feet flying over the uneven ground. The cannibal's eyes widened, and he took a step after her, but Ginger stepped in his way. "Don't go," she whispered, her voice low and sultry, her hands running up and down his chest. "We can have so much more fun together."
The cannibal's gaze flickered back to Ginger, and for a moment, Mary Ann thought she had bought herself some time. But then his eyes narrowed, and he shoved Ginger aside, her protests falling on deaf ears as he took off after her friend. The jungle grew denser, the branches whipping against her legs and face as she ran, but she didn't dare slow down. She could hear his heavy footsteps pounding the earth behind her, growing closer with every second.
Her heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst from her chest, but she didn't dare look back. The only sounds were her own frantic gasps for air and the cannibal's guttural grunts of effort. Her eyes darted to the left and right, searching for an escape route, but the foliage was too thick. It was like running through a wall of green. With her hands still bound she could not push the foliage aside and she ran through it, just crashing into and through every branch and frond.
Then, without warning, she felt a powerful hand grab her ankle. With a scream, she tumbled to the ground, the breath knocked out of her. The cannibal loomed over her, his grin now a snarl. He grabbed her by the waist, hauling her over his shoulder as if she were nothing more than a sack of potatoes.
Mary Ann's world spun as he turned and took off at a run, the blood rushing to her head. She kicked and squirmed, desperately trying to escape his iron grip. His skin was hot and slick with sweat, the scent of him overwhelming. She could feel his muscles flexing with each stride, the thump of his heart beating in time with the pulse of fear in her own chest.
Her eyes watered as she tried to catch a glimpse of Ginger, hoping her friend had managed to escape. But Ginger was gone, swallowed by the jungle. The cannibal's hand squeezed her waist, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he moved deeper into the underbrush.
The Professor, who had been tinkering with a makeshift radio nearby, heard the commotion. He looked up, his spectacles askew, to see Ginger stumbling out of the jungle, her eyes wild with fear. "What happened to Mary Ann?" he demanded, dropping the radio to the sand.
Ginger gulped in a breath, her chest heaving. "Cannibal," she managed to croak out, her voice hoarse from the screams she had been holding back. "He took her."
The Professor's eyes widened in horror. "Mary Ann?"
"Yes," Ginger choked out, her voice trembling. She stumbled closer, her legs unsteady from the shock and fear. "He... he was tasting us."
The Professor's eyes grew wide with horror, his mind racing. "Tasting you?"
Ginger nodded, her chest still heaving with fear. "Yes, he...he tasted our tummies." She shivered at the memory, the cannibal's tongue an unwelcome violation against her skin. "I think he was deciding which one of us to take."
The Professor's eyes grew dark with concern. "What did you do?"
Ginger took a deep, shaky breath. "I tried to distract him," she said, her voice still trembling. "I...I told him that I was more delicious." She paused, her gaze dropping to the ground. "I didn't want him to take her."
The Professor's eyes searched hers, his concern palpable. "What did he do?"
Ginger took a moment to compose herself, the horror of the encounter still fresh in her mind. "He...he licked me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "And he looked at me like I was... like I was dinner." She shivered, recalling the feel of the cannibal's hot, rough tongue against her skin. "But then he went after Mary Ann. I guess she tasted better."
The Professor's brow furrowed as he processed this disturbing information. "Ginger, I need you to be strong," he said firmly, placing a hand on her trembling shoulder. "We need to get a description of this man to the others. Can you do that for me?"
Ginger took a deep breath, her eyes flickering with the memory of the cannibal's touch. She nodded. "He was... he was big," she began, her voice still shaky. "Taller than any of the natives we've seen before, with muscles like tree trunks." She paused, her eyes distant as she recalled the intricate tattoos that covered his body. "His skin was covered in ink, like a map of the jungle itself."
The Professor's gaze was intense, his mind racing. "And his interest in your bellies?" he prompted, his voice gentle but firm.
Ginger shuddered, her hand unconsciously rising to her own midriff. "Yes," she confirmed, her voice low. "It was... it was like he was choosing the choicest cut of meat."
The Professor nodded gravely, his mind racing. "The tribe we encountered before, the one that left us those strange gifts," he murmured, his eyes distant as he pieced together the puzzle. "They were known for their... unique tastes."
Ginger's eyes grew round with horror. "You mean... they eat people?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
The Professor nodded gravely. "The tribe we encountered before," he said, his voice tight with tension, "they had a... particular fondness for the flesh of females. Specifically, the belly."
Ginger's hand flew to her own midsection, her stomach churning. "But why?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.
The Professor's expression grew grim as he spoke. "In some of these island cultures, certain body parts are considered... a delicacy. For this tribe, it seems, the belly of a female is highly prized." His eyes searched hers, looking for understanding. "Mary Ann's is... particularly tempting."
Ginger felt a mix of revulsion and anger boil within her. "What are we going to do?" she asked, her voice shaking. "We have to save her."
The Professor nodded, his gaze hardening with resolve. "We'll go back to camp," he said, "and get the others. We must act swiftly."
Ginger, still shaking with fear and anger, managed a small smile. "My belly is just as good," she murmured, trying to lighten the mood. "Why don't we just offer him a taste test?"
The Professor gave her a stern look. "Ginger, this isn't the time for jokes." His mind was racing, already forming a plan. "We need to move quickly, before it's too late."
Back in the jungle, the cannibal's grip on Mary Ann tightened as he carried her through the dense foliage. His thoughts were a cacophony of hunger and victory, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. The scent of her fear mingled with the sweetness of her skin, driving him wild. He had never tasted anything like it before.
Mary Ann felt the world spin around her, her eyes stinging with tears. She struggled to keep her bearings, to remember the path they took. The jungle was a blur of greens and browns, the only constant the cannibal's foul stench and the feeling of his rough hands on her body. The thought of what awaited her in his camp was too much to bear, and she bit back a sob.
The cannibal, on the other hand, felt a thrill of victory. His eyes never left the path ahead; his mind focused on the feast to come. He knew that once he presented her to his tribe, they would praise his strength and cunning. The taste of her belly had been heavenly, and he could already imagine the sounds of their cheers as he devoured her, one piece at a time.
As they approached the camp, the smell of roasting meat grew stronger, making Mary Ann's stomach clench in fear. She had heard tales of such places, of the horrors that unfolded within these makeshift communities. The sight that greeted her was worse than anything she could have imagined.
The camp was nestled in a clearing, surrounded by a ring of fire. The flickering flames cast an eerie glow over the huts made of animal skins and bones. The centerpiece was a massive wooden post, adorned with a grinning skull at its top. The cannibal unceremoniously threw her up against the post, and she felt the rough bark dig into her back as he secured her wrists to the post with thick vines.
Mary Ann's eyes widened with horror as she took in the scene around her. The giant cauldron bubbled over with a mysterious stew that filled the air with a sickly-sweet scent. Her stomach lurched as she realized what might be in that pot, and worse, what might be going into it. She had to get out of here before she became a part of the recipe.
The cannibal approached her, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He began to peel off her clothes, his rough, calloused hands caressing her skin as if it were the most delicate of fabrics. The fabric of her midriff top ripped away with ease, exposing her breasts as well as her belly to the open air. He took his time with her shorts, his eyes drinking in every inch of her as he revealed her.
Mary Ann felt his hot breath on her neck, his tongue tracing the shell of her ear as he whispered something in his guttural language. She trembled with fear and revulsion, but she knew she had to stay calm, had to find a way to escape. His hands moved down her body, his touch surprisingly gentle as he tugged at the fabric. The shorts fell to her ankles, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.
Her legs were bound to the post next, the vines biting into her flesh, her feet arched and on her toes like she was wearing high-heels, but she ignored the pain. She had to focus, had to keep her wits about her. The cannibal stepped back to admire his handiwork, his eyes glittering with hunger. He traced the curve of her hip, his finger circling her navel before moving down to the soft mound of her belly.
He squeezed gently at first, testing the give of her flesh. Mary Ann held back a scream, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt his rough fingers dig into her. His eyes narrowed as he pinched her skin, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. He murmured to himself, seemingly pleased with what he found. The sensation of his touch was repulsive, but she forced herself to stay still, to bide her time.
The cannibal leaned in, his breath hot and putrid against her cheek. He whispered something, his voice a gruff purr, and she felt his hand move again, tracing a line from her hipbone to her navel. His eyes never left hers, watching for any sign of understanding. His thumb dipped into her belly button, and she had to fight the urge to flinch away. His gaze was hungry, his intent unmistakable.
He stepped back, his hand moving to the necklace of teeth around his neck. With a dramatic gesture, he pointed at her, then at the necklace, then back at his mouth, miming the act of biting and chewing. The message was clear: she was to be the next addition to his macabre adornment. A chill ran down her spine, but she forced a calmness into her expression, her mind racing.
The cannibal chuckled, seemingly enjoying the terror in her eyes. He spoke again in his harsh tongue, gesturing to the cauldron and then to her belly. His words were foreign, but the meaning was unmistakable. He was going to consume her, savor her flesh. His hand moved to the fire, and he held it there, watching her intently as he spoke, his voice rising and falling in a rhythm that could almost be mistaken for poetry.
Mary Ann's eyes darted to the cauldron, the bubbling stew a grim reminder of her fate. The smell made her stomach turn, and she had to bite back the bile rising in her throat. She forced herself to focus, to find a way out of this nightmare.
The cannibal leaned over her, his tongue snaking out to lick a slow, deliberate path up her torso. His mouth closed over her right breast, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. He suckled at her nipple, his eyes never leaving hers. The sensation was a mix of pain and revulsion, but she remained still, her mind racing.
He paused for a moment, his eyes flickering to her left breast, his hand moving to cup it in his calloused palm. He leaned back, his gaze raking over her body. His tongue darted out again, tracing the line of her ribs before settling once more on her belly. His eyes grew distant, lost in some dark reverie of culinary delight.
With a grin, he licked her once more, starting at the base of her throat and moving down to her collarbone. His teeth grazed her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. She felt his tongue slide over her sternum, down to her navel, and back up to her left breast. His teeth closed around the tender peak, tugging gently. The sensation was alien and terrifying, her mind struggling to process the reality of the situation.
Mary Ann's breath hitched as his tongue danced around her areola, his teeth scraping against the sensitive flesh. He took his time, savoring every inch of her, his eyes never leaving hers. It was as if he was tasting the very essence of her fear. She tried to keep her breathing even, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her panic. But the more he touched her, the harder it became.
The other cannibals had emerged from their huts, drawn by the commotion. They gathered around the fire, their eyes glued to the new addition to their camp. Each one was more terrifying than the last, their faces a canvas of tattoos and scars, their teeth filed to sharp points. They murmured to each other, their voices a mix of excitement and anticipation. They moved closer to her, their eyes glittering with hunger.
Mary Ann felt the eyes of the tribe on her, their gazes burning like a hundred suns. Her heart raced, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. The cannibals' eyes were glued to her midriff, their mouths watering at the sight of her exposed belly. One by one, they stepped forward, reaching out to touch her, to claim their own piece of her.
The first one approached, a woman with breasts like overripe fruit and a necklace made of human fingers. She ran her hand over Mary Ann's belly, her eyes alight with greed. Her touch was cold, her fingers digging into the soft flesh like hooks. She leaned in, her teeth bared as she sniffed, her nostrils flaring with the scent of fear.
"Mmm," she murmured in her primitive tongue, her voice thick and wet. She licked her lips, her eyes never leaving Mary Ann's.
The cannibal holding her stepped aside, allowing the others to come closer. They gathered around, their eyes shining with hunger as they took in the sight of their new prize. The air grew heavy with the scent of lust and greed, their collective breath hot and moist against her exposed skin.
One by one, they approached her, their hands reaching out to touch her belly. The sensation of their cold, rough fingers sent chills down her spine. They prodded and poked, their tongues flicking out to taste her flesh. Each touch was a violation, a declaration of their intent to consume her.
The second cannibal was a hulking man with a wild beard and eyes that burned with a fierce hunger. He stepped forward, his hand moving to her navel. He pressed down, his thumb circling the indentation. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her skin. He whispered something in his guttural tongue, and the others chuckled, their eyes gleaming with excitement.
A third cannibal, this one with a necklace of shrunken heads, approached her from the left. His hand slid over her belly, his calloused fingertips tracing the curves and valleys of her flesh. He leaned down, his nose against her skin, inhaling deeply. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he groaned with pleasure. The others jeered and poked at him, eager for their own taste.
Mary Ann felt the fourth cannibal, a sinewy man with piercings in his nose and ears, touch her belly. His hand was colder than the others, the metal in his piercings sending a shiver through her. He spoke in a language she didn't understand, but the lust in his tone was universal. His tongue darted out, licking a slow path from her navel to the bottom of her ribcage. The others watched, their eyes gleaming in the firelight.
A fifth cannibal, a woman with a shaved head and intricate tattoos, stepped up to the post, her eyes hungrily scanning Mary Ann's bound form. Her hand slid under Mary Ann's back, lifting her slightly to expose her midriff even more. The others leaned in, eager to watch the show. The woman's tongue snaked out, licking a line down her side, ending with a quick flick to her hip. The cannibals around her laughed, their voices a mix of excitement and anticipation.
As the drums began to beat, a rhythmic throb that seemed to come from the very heart of the island, the cannibals started to move. The fire cast shadows across the clearing, making their movements seem erratic and terrifying. They danced around the post, their limbs flailing in a macabre display. Each one took a turn, coming closer to Mary Ann, their eyes locked on her trembling belly.
The first dancer, a young man with a feral glint in his eye, approached her. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips before he leaned in, his breath hot against her skin. He licked a slow, deliberate path across her belly, from one hipbone to the other. His dance was a predatory prowl, and she could see the hunger in his eyes as he stepped back, allowing the next to take his place.
A second dancer, a woman with a wild smile, moved with a grace that belied her savagery. She stopped before Mary Ann, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Her tongue slid out, a wet line of hunger, and she licked a circle around her navel. The cannibals around her chuckled, their eyes alight with a twisted glee.
The dance grew more frenzied, the beat of the drums echoing through the jungle. Each lick sent a bolt of fear through Mary Ann's body, a stark reminder of the fate that awaited her. The third dancer, a scarred warrior, stepped up, his eyes burning with a fierce hunger. He leaned over her, his tongue tracing the soft skin of her lower abdomen before retreating to dance away.
The fourth dancer, an older woman with a cackle that sent shivers down Mary Ann's spine, approached with a gleeful leer. She licked a zigzag pattern from her right hip to her navel, her eyes never leaving hers. The taste of her sweat and fear mingled with the smoke of the fire, a potent cocktail of terror.
The fire beneath the cauldron grew hotter, casting a hellish glow over the clearing. The oil in the pot began to sizzle, the scent of impending doom thick in the air. Mary Ann's eyes remained fixed on the bubbling stew, her mind racing. Why this obsession with her belly? Was there something special about her, or was she merely the latest in a long line of unfortunate females to grace their table?
The cannibals' dance grew more frenzied, their bodies glistening with a mix of sweat and animalistic desire. The beat of the drums was like a heart that wouldn't quit, pounding in her ears, setting her own pulse racing with dread. She felt their eyes on her, ravenous and hungry, each lick a silent promise of the agony to come. The gentle slope of her stomach was a canvas for their dark desires, a delicacy that fueled the flames of their primitive hunger.
Mary Ann's thoughts strayed to the many times she had proudly shown off her midriff on the island, her belly button gleaming with a sprinkle of sand as she giggled with her friends. How she had wished for a mirror to admire her figure, to see if she was as alluring as the movie stars she had once envied. Now, she wished she could hide her belly, shrink it away from their greedy eyes, make it as unappealing as the rotting fruit that fell from the trees.
Her stomach had always been her pride and joy, a testament to her youth and vitality. It had drawn admiring glances from the other castaways and had been the subject of more than one playful tease from the Professor. Now, it was her downfall, the very reason she was here, bound to this post, about to become the centerpiece of a twisted feast.
Back at the camp, the Professor had gathered the others around the fire, Ginger's shaky voice recounting the horror of their discovery. The castaways listened in disbelief, their expressions a mix of shock and determination. "We have to save her," said the Professor, his voice firm and resolute. "We must act quickly, before it's too late."
Gilligan, his eyes wide with fear, spoke up. "But Professor, we don't know where to start looking. This island is huge!"
The Professor nodded solemnly, stroking his chin. "True, but we have one advantage," he said, his eyes glinting with a spark of hope. "We know they value female flesh. Specifically, the belly. We must use this to our advantage."
Ginger, her eyes still haunted by the memory of the cannibal's touch, spoke up. "Maybe I can go back," she offered, her voice shaking slightly. "Distract them again. Give you guys a chance to sneak in and get Mary Ann out."
The Professor considered her proposal, his gaze flicking to the others for their input. "It's risky," he said finally, "but it might be our best shot." He turned to Ginger. "You're right. Your... experience with the cannibal could be useful. But we need to be careful. We don't know their customs, their numbers, or their capabilities."
The group huddled around the map they had made of the island, their heads close together as they whispered strategies. Ginger's hand trembled slightly as she traced the path the Professor had outlined. "I can do it," she said firmly. "I have to."
The Professor nodded, his eyes meeting hers. "We'll need to be smart," he said. "We can't just charge in there. We need a distraction, something to draw their attention while we get her out."
The Skipper, his usual bluster replaced with grim determination, spoke up. "How 'bout a good ol' fashioned smoke screen?" He suggested, rubbing his chin. "We can start a fire, get some smoke billowin' and make a run for it while they're all coughin' and sneezin'."
The Professor nodded thoughtfully. "A smoke screen could work as a distraction, but we need something more substantial. Something that will keep them occupied long enough for us to get in, free Mary Ann, and get out unnoticed."
Skipper, ever the practical one, suggested, "What if we use some of the explosives I brought from the ship?" His eyes lit up with the memory of past successful escapades. "We could rig up a bunch of 'em, set 'em off in the jungle. That'll create a ruckus big enough to scare off a whole pack of wild boars, let alone some cannibals!"
The Professor tapped his pipe against his teeth, deep in thought. "While your enthusiasm is appreciated, Skipper, we need to consider the safety of the tribe as well. We're not savages. Besides, explosives might just attract more of them."
Gilligan spoke up, his voice a mix of hope and desperation. "I know! What if we could convince them that we're... I dunno, gods or something? Maybe they'd let her go if we promised them something in return."
The Professor nodded slowly, his eyes lighting up. "That could work. If we could play into their superstitions, perhaps we could negotiate for her release." He turned to Ginger, whose expression was a mix of fear and resolve. "Your performance earlier might have given us a way in. You could be our envoy, our... goddess, if you're willing."
Ginger took a deep breath, her resolve steeling her nerves. "I'll do it. Anything to save Mary Ann." The group worked quickly, using their limited resources to fashion a makeshift costume for Ginger. They adorned her with feathers and shells, painting her face and body with a mix of berry juices and ash to make her appear otherworldly.
The Skipper couldn't help but whistle as they worked on her midriff. "Looks like we're serving up a Thanksgiving turkey," he quipped, his eyes lingering a bit too long on Ginger's bare stomach.
Gilligan blushed, but the gravity of the situation quickly sobered him. He took a step back to admire their handiwork. "Maybe if she looks like the main course, they'll let us take Mary Ann and go," he suggested, his voice hopeful.
The Professor nodded solemnly, his mind racing. "We need to make her belly irresistible," he murmured, stroking his chin. "Something that will make them question their own judgment, something that will make them crave her so badly that they'll be willing to trade."
Ginger felt a knot form in her stomach as she realized the implication. "You don't mean..." she began, her voice trailing off as she stared at the Professor in horror.
The Professor held up a hand, his expression earnest. "No, Ginger, no. That's not what we're planning at all." He took a deep breath, his eyes flicking to the makeshift map of the island. "What we need is a way to convince them that we're offering something of great value in exchange for Mary Ann. Something they want more than..." his voice trailed off, and he swallowed hard.
Ginger's eyes searched the group, her heart racing. "But what if they don't want to trade?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "What if they just want to keep both of us?"
The Professor placed a comforting hand on her arm. "We won't let that happen," he assured her. "Our plan is to offer something they can't resist, something that will make them think twice about keeping Mary Ann. But we're not going to leave you behind."
Ginger searched his eyes, looking for any hint of deceit, but all she found was a firm resolve. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "What could we possibly offer them that they would want more than a... a human meal?"
The Professor leaned closer, his voice low and urgent. "We offer them something they've never had before. Something so tantalizing, so exotic, that it will make them forget all about their hunger for a moment." His eyes lit up with a spark of genius. "We offer them... firewater."
Ginger's brow furrowed in confusion. "Firewater?"
"My moonshine rum!" answered Mr. Howell, holding up a jug made out of a gourd.
"Pour it onto your belly,” said the Professor. They'll taste it when they taste you."
Ginger's eyes widened in understanding as the Professor handed her the gourd of rum. She took a deep breath and nodded, her fear momentarily forgotten in the face of their ingenious plan. They had spent hours perfecting their ruse, the Professor explaining every detail with a precision that made her feel almost like they were back in her dressing room, preparing for a scene.
The castaways moved as one through the dense jungle foliage, the steady beat of the drums guiding them like a morbid lighthouse call. The scent of roasting meat grew stronger, a sickening miasma that made their stomachs churn. They had to be careful not to give themselves away, their very survival depended on the element of surprise.
As they approached the clearing where the cannibal camp lay, they saw the flickering light of the bonfire. The silhouettes of the cannibals danced against the night sky, their shadows grotesque and distorted. Their eyes grew wide with horror as they spotted Mary Ann, her lithe form stretched out on a bamboo platform, her skin glistening with a mixture of sweat and oil. The cannibals were busy seasoning her, rubbing her down with a paste that smelled faintly of exotic herbs and spices.
The sight was almost too much to bear, but they had to stay focused. They had come so far, and failure was not an option. The Professor signaled for them to split up, each taking a position around the camp. They would wait for the right moment to strike. The drums grew louder, the beat a constant reminder of the urgency of their mission. The cannibals were in a frenzy, their excitement palpable.
Mary Ann was hoisted into the air by a group of the strongest cannibals, their muscular arms flexing as they paraded her around the camp. Her eyes searched the shadows, looking for any sign of her friends, any glimmer of hope. The firelight played over her body, turning her skin to gold. The cannibals danced around her, their eyes gleaming with hunger. The cauldron of bubbling stew grew closer with each step, the heat of the fire licking at her bare skin.
With a final, triumphant shout, they threw her into the pot. The world seemed to slow down as she fell, the scalding liquid rising up to meet her. The impact was like a punch to the gut, the pain stealing the breath from her lungs. The water churned and frothed around her, the heat enveloping her like a living thing. She felt the bonds around her wrists and ankles loosen, allowing her to struggle. But it was no use. The stew was thick with vegetables and chunks of meat, and she was already being submerged by the weight of it all.
Through the fog of pain and fear, she heard the sound of the jungle change. The drums grew softer, replaced by the sound of rustling leaves and the snapping of twigs. Her heart leaped in hope, her eyes searching the darkness for any sign of her friends. And then she saw it—the flicker of torchlight, the glint of metal, and the unmistakable silhouette of Ginger.
Her friend emerged from the shadows, a vision in a makeshift costume of feathers and shells, her skin painted with intricate designs. The cannibals' eyes snapped to her, their attention torn from the sizzling pot. Ginger began to move, her hips swaying to a silent rhythm, the rum gourd held high above her head.
Her dance was mesmerizing, a seductive performance that seemed to hypnotize the savage crowd. Each step was calculated, each movement a silent promise of something they had never seen before. She danced closer to the fire, the flickering flames casting shadows across her body, making her appear otherworldly, a creature of myth and legend come to life.
The cannibals' eyes followed her every move, their hunger for human flesh momentarily forgotten in the face of this new, tantalizing spectacle. The drumming slowed, their eyes locked on her, their breaths held in anticipation. Ginger's heart raced, but she didn't let it show. She knew she had them in the palm of her hand.
Her belly was the center of attention, the star of the show. She had practiced her dance moves for years, but never had she used them for anything like this. With each sinuous roll of her hips, she felt their eyes on her, the heat of their gazes burning through the air like a physical touch. The fire crackled and popped behind her, casting a fiery glow across her gyrating stomach.
The cannibals stared, their mouths agape, their tongues lolling out like hungry dogs. They had never seen anything quite like this. The way her belly moved, rippling with the strength of a thousand muscles, was mesmerizing. It was as if she had control over every inch of her flesh, each twitch and turn a silent command that they found impossible to resist.
Ginger's eyes sparkled with a fierce determination, her hands moving in a mesmerizing pattern that drew their gaze to her midriff. Her stomach undulated in time with the imaginary beat of the drums, the gourd of rum held aloft like a sacred offering. The firelight cast shadows across her skin, making her appear almost supernatural, a creature from a distant land that had come to bring them a new flavor.
The cannibals couldn't help themselves; they had never seen anything quite so tantalizing. They began to gather around her, their movements tentative at first, unsure if this was part of the ritual. One by one, they reached out to touch her belly, their eyes widening as their fingers sank into the soft flesh. Each touch grew bolder, each poke and pinch a silent question. Ginger never flinched, her dance never wavering, her eyes never leaving theirs.
As their hands grew more insistent, Ginger leaned back slightly, arching her back to give them better access. The cannibals' eyes grew round with excitement, their tongues darting out to taste the air around her. One by one they leaned in, licking her belly with a hunger that was almost reverential. The first taste was like nothing they had ever experienced—sweet, with a hint of the exotic. They moaned in pleasure, their eyes rolling back in their heads as they licked her again and again, each stroke of their tongues more demanding than the last.
The rum trickled down her stomach, the heat from the fire warming the alcohol and sending a shiver through her body. It pooled in her navel, creating a tiny puddle that reflected the flames like a fiery jewel. The cannibals watched, their eyes glued to the sight, their own hunger reflected in the glowing liquid. Ginger knew she had them hooked. She took a deep breath, her hand moving to the gourd with a dramatic flourish.
With a flick of her wrist, she sent a cascade of the firewater over her belly. It ran in rivulets down her sides, the scent of it mixing with the smoke from the fire. The cannibals leaned closer, their eyes wide with wonder. She watched as the first one reached out a tentative tongue, the tip barely touching the liquid. He drew back with a gasp, his eyes lighting up with excitement. He had never tasted anything so potent, so powerful.
The others followed suit, their tongues darting out like serpents to sample the sweet, fiery nectar. The sound of them lapping at her belly was like a symphony of hunger, a crescendo of desperate need. Ginger felt a thrill of power run through her, a heady rush that was both terrifying and exhilarating. She knew that she had them under her spell, and she had to hold on tight.
Taking a deep breath, she reached up and took a small sip from the gourd herself, her eyes never leaving the crowd. The rum burned a path down her throat, setting her belly aflame with its potent heat. She felt a warmth spread through her, a comforting embrace that steadied her nerves. With a knowing smile, she offered the gourd to the first cannibal, the one who had licked her belly with such enthusiasm.
His eyes widened, and he took the gourd with trembling hands. The others watched, their anticipation palpable. He brought it to his lips and took a tentative sip, his eyes closing in ecstasy as the fiery liquid touched his tongue. A collective gasp went through the crowd as the taste of the rum hit him, their eyes glazing over with a mix of wonder and greed.
One by one, the cannibals stepped forward to share in this newfound delight, their tongues eager to experience the exotic flavor. The gourd passed from hand to hand, the sweet smell of the alcohol mingling with the smoky scent of the campfire. They drank deeply, their eyes never leaving Ginger's belly, the source of this strange, intoxicating elixir. Their cheers grew louder as the rum spread through them, turning into a dizzying chant that echoed through the jungle night.
Their movements grew more erratic, their steps unsure as the alcohol began to take hold. The once-menacing figures now swayed and stumbled, their focus on the pot containing Mary Ann forgotten as they became consumed by their newfound craving. Ginger watched, her heart racing as she realized that the rum was doing more than just distracting them—it was weakening them.
The Professor and the others took this opportunity to slip from the shadows, each carrying a jug of the potent firewater. They passed them to Ginger one by one; their eyes filled with a silent plea for her to keep the charade going. She took each jug with a nod, her own nerves a tangible force as she handed them out to the eager cannibals. They drank greedily, their eyes never leaving her belly, which now glowed with a sheen of rum and sweat.
The cannibals' excitement grew with every swig of the potent liquid, their laughter turning to raucous cheers as they passed the jugs around. They had never felt such a warmth spread through their bodies, a sensation that seemed to loosen their very bones. The world grew hazy around the edges, the firelight dancing in time with their spinning heads. The taste of the rum was unlike anything they had ever experienced, a sweetness that burned like the sun itself.
The Professor watched from his hiding place, a small smile playing on his lips. He had been meticulous in his preparation, mixing just the right amount of a sleepy herb into the brew. It was a gamble, but it seemed to be paying off. One by one, the cannibals began to sway on their feet, their eyes drooping as the potent cocktail took effect. The chanting grew softer, their movements slower, until it was clear that the alcohol had claimed them.
As Ginger continued her dance, the Professor gave the signal. From the shadows, the rest of the castaways emerged. Each one had transformed into a creature from the cannibals' darkest nightmares—Skipper as a terrifying beast with horns made from coconut husks, Mr. Howell and the Professor as fierce shamans with face paint and feathers, and even Thurston as a towering giant with a necklace of bones. The cannibals stared, their eyes glazed over with a mix of fear and intoxication.
Their inhibitions were gone, the firewater turning them into a docile, stumbling mass. They offered no resistance as the costumed castaways approached, their movements deliberate and predatory. The Skipper let out a guttural roar, his arms outstretched, the coconut shells tied to his chest clattering with the beat of his heart. The cannibals cowered, their eyes wide with terror.
The Professor stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he whispered into Ginger's ear, "Now, my dear. Now is the time." Ginger took a deep breath and with a dramatic gesture, she smashed the last jug of rum into the ground. The sweet smell of alcohol filled the air, mixing with the pungent scent of fear and sweat.
The cannibals stared in shock, their eyes wide with disbelief as the golden liquid seeped into the earth. The Professor stepped up to the bamboo platform, his face a mask of authority. He pointed to the cauldron, his voice thundering over the crackling fire. "The Great Spirits have spoken! They do not wish for the flesh of this one!"
Mary Ann took the moment of confusion to act, her body tensing as she waited for the signal. Ginger saw the opportunity and whispered into the Professor's ear, her voice barely audible over the din. "Now," she urged. The Professor nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. He raised his hands to the sky, and the castaways fell silent, their makeshift weapons at the ready.
As the last echoes of Ginger's dance faded into the night, the cannibals looked from their shaman to the shattered gourd in the dirt, their confusion turning to fear. With a dramatic flourish, the Professor announced, "The Spirits are angered by your hunger for this girl! They demand you leave her to us!"
Panic swept through the tribe like a wildfire, ignited by the frenzied whispers of the intoxicated savages. They stumbled away from the cauldron, their eyes darting around the clearing as if searching for an escape from the wrath of these mysterious Spirits. The Professor's words had struck a deep chord of superstition in their primitive minds, and they weren't about to argue with fate.
Mary Ann lay there, a stark contrast to the chaos around her, her body trembling with the effort of holding still. The pain from the burning stew had been unbearable, but she had gritted her teeth and waited, her eyes never leaving Ginger's. As the cannibals retreated, she felt the bonds around her wrists and ankles begin to loosen, the heat of the water subsiding.
The Professor, Skipper and Mr. Howell stepped forward, their movements swift and sure. They pulled her from the cauldron, her skin sizzling and red from the heat, but she didn't scream. She bit back the pain, focusing on the task at hand. The Professor wrapped her in a soft, dry cloth, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and admiration. "You're okay," he murmured, his voice a comforting balm. "We're going to get you out of here."
Mary Ann nodded, her eyes never leaving Ginger's. The two women shared a look that spoke volumes—fear, relief, determination. They had to move quickly. The cannibals could wake from their drunken haze at any moment. The Professor helped her to her feet, supporting her as they made their way back through the jungle, her legs wobbly from the ordeal.
The castaways moved like ghosts through the underbrush, carrying their rescued comrade with care. The night was alive with the sounds of the jungle, but the cannibal camp grew distant, their cries of panic fading into the cacophony of the wild. The air was thick with the scent of the firewater, the potent fumes trailing them like a beacon of their victory.
As they approached the safety of their camp, Ginger couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over her. The fear she had felt earlier was now replaced with a warmth that spread from her chest to her fingertips, a warmth that had nothing to do with the firewater. She had done it—she had saved Mary Ann. The bond between the two women grew stronger with every step, a silent promise to always have each other's backs, no matter what the island threw at them.
The Professor led them back to the camp, his mind racing with thoughts of what they would find there. Would the cannibals have retaliated? Would they have to fight for their lives once more? But as they stepped into the clearing, they were met with a surprising sight—the camp was untouched, the cannibals nowhere to be seen. It was as if the entire ordeal had been nothing more than a terrible nightmare.
Back in the safety of their own hut, Mary Ann and Ginger did their best to clean themselves and wind down after their ordeal. They donned the light robes that they often wore at night, naked underneath them.
The rope fibers had left angry red lines across her wrists. Mary Ann flexed her fingers, still tasting the fear in the back of her throat—sharp as citric acid.
Mary Ann stood examining her belly in the mirror. Her fingers traced the lingering wetness on her navel where tribal tongues had lapped. The hut's torchlight made the sheen look like honey. She shuddered at the memory of their hands and tongues on her bare stomach. Yet the revulsion was accompanied by a feeling or arousal as she stroked her own abdomen. She had always been proud of her tummy, thinking of it as her best and most attractive feature. She had secretly loved showing it off and enjoyed the lustful glances that it brought from men. She shuddered at the thought that it had almost gotten her killed... and eaten!
"What if it wasn't just hunger?" Her voice hitched as she pinched the soft flesh above her hipbone. "What if they—liked me? They seemed to really like the taste of my tummy!"
Lounging on her nearby cot, Ginger's bare foot slid up Mary Ann's calf, toes curling. "Oh, they liked you." She sipped a dram of Mr. Howell's rum from a coconut shell, letting the rum drip between her own breasts. "I think they liked me, too, but not half as much as they did you." The liquid pooled in the dip of her sternum before trickling down the slope of her stomach.
Mary Ann caught Ginger's wrist mid-sip, pressing the shell against her own lips, letting the liquor spill onto her tongue—then down her chin, down her neck. It splashed onto her collarbone, and she arched against the tickle of syrup moving toward her navel. She gasped, "Do you think—? Could—? Do I really taste sweet?"
Ginger laughed low, her fingers pushing up Mary Ann's crop top, nails skating the dip beneath her ribs. "Oh honey, you couldn't taste *bad* if you tried. But me?" She tugged Mary Ann's hand to her own stomach, pressing their palms flat against taut muscle. Ginger's skin was warmer—always warmer—and tasted faintly of salt-spray and Mr. Howell's stolen spiced rum. "But I am amazed that they liked yours better than mine. After all", she mused, "I am a movie star!"
Mary Ann's breath caught. That was true—Ginger was a star, tasted by directors and photographers and leading men. Did fame leave a flavor? She dragged her tongue along the inside of her own wrist—just sweat, salt, fear-sourness. "Do you think—if I was in movies—would I taste like you?" Her voice was small, almost embarrassed by the hunger in it. The hut smelled like torch smoke and coconut oil, and the air between them thickened with something neither could name.
Ginger's laugh was breathy as she pulled Mary Ann down onto the cot, their hips slotting together. "Oh, baby," she murmured, teeth grazing Mary Ann's earlobe. "Hollywood doesn't know shit about tasting women." Her palm slid between Mary Ann's thighs, pressing—just once—before dragging back up to splay over her stomach. "Those boys? They swallow what they're told to swallow. But cannibals?" Her tongue flicked out, tracing the curve of Mary Ann's navel. "Cannibals lick what they want."
Mary Ann whimpered, hips twitching upward. The thought of being chosen, of being craved so desperately they'd boil her alive just to savor her—it shouldn't have made her wet. But the dampness between her legs wasn't just fear anymore.
Mary Ann's expression grew dreamy. "I wish I could know what they tasted. What made them—" Her voice broke as she stoked her own abdomen. "I wish I could lick me the way they did. I need to know if I really taste that good." The admission sent heat flaring across her skin, her nipples hardening.
Ginger's grin was slow, sinful. "Well," she murmured, her fingers tracing the waistband of Mary Ann's shorts, "you've got my tongue." She licked her lips deliberately. "And I'm dying to know what all the fuss was about." Her breath hitched, arousal making her bold. "We could… taste each other."
Mary Ann's breath caught in her throat. She felt the butterflies in her stomach along with the growing wetness in her panties. She couldn't believe that this was turning her on.
"I would love to taste you", Mary Ann said in a near whisper. Mary Ann opened Ginger's robe and caressed her stomach, drinking in the sight of Ginger's white belly. "I can't believe they didn't go for you first. You are... so beautiful and sexy."
Ginger giggled. "Don't sell yourself short", she cooed. "The cannibals surely think you taste the best."
Ginger's fingers tugged at Mary Ann's robe tie, the fabric parting like theater curtains on opening night. Her breath stuttered as the torchlight played over Mary Ann's bare skin—the swell of her breasts, the soft curve of her stomach, the faint sheen of sweat making everything glow. "Oh," she breathed, thumb brushing a nipple. "No wonder they wanted to taste you. You look delicious." Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. "Like dessert left out in the sun—warm, sticky..."
Mary Ann felt as if she would melt. "Are we doing this?" she asked.
"Oh, yeah", Ginger answered in her characteristic seductive voice. "We're doing this."
Ginger leaned forward, pressing her lips to the soft curve of Mary Ann's belly. Her tongue flicked out, slow and deliberate, tracing the shallow dip of her navel. Mary Ann gasped, fingers tangling in Ginger's red hair as the first tentative lick sent shivers up her spine. The taste was faintly sweet—sun-warmed skin and salt, with something indefinable beneath it, something that made Ginger hum against her flesh. "Mmm," she murmured, dragging her tongue in a wet stripe upward. "Like sugarcane. Like coconut milk left in the sun."
"I think I can still taste the seasonings and broth from the cooking pot on you, too", she added.
"I do taste good?" Mary Ann asked, her voice trembling.
Ginger's tongue circled her navel, slow and savoring. "You taste like... stolen peaches," she murmured, lips dragging upward. "Like when you bite into one straight from the orchard and the juice runs down your chin—warm, forbidden. And here—" Her teeth grazed the soft swell beneath Mary Ann's ribs, making her jerk. "—like cream skimmed right off the top. Thick. Spoiling in the best way." She lapped at a spot just below Mary Ann's sternum, groaning. "Christ, right here? Like rum poured over brown sugar. No wonder they wanted to eat you!"
The feeling of being licked by Ginger was warm and intoxicating, so unlike the way it felt when the cannibals were tasting her. The thought that she tasted so good to Ginger only added to the excitement she felt. She had always thought that her tummy looked good, she had never imagined that it could also taste good.
"I would rather be tasted by you than by that monstrous cannibal", she cooed.
Ginger's hands gripped Mary Ann's hips, fingers digging into soft flesh as her tongue worked lower, following the trail of sweat toward the waistband of Mary Ann's shorts. The fabric clung damply to her skin, and Ginger exhaled sharply—her breath hot against Mary Ann's belly—before hooking two fingers under the elastic. "Here's the real test," she murmured, tugging the shorts down just enough to expose the delicate crease where thigh met torso. Her tongue dragged wet and slow across the new territory, and Mary Ann's knees buckled at the sensation—hotter, muskier, the taste of her arousal mingling with sunbaked skin.
"Let's not go there just yet", Mary Ann said, her hand reaching down to gently stop Ginger. "I want to taste you."
"Then let's do this right", ginger replied. She took off her robe and laid down naked on the bed. Mary Ann dropped her robe to the floor and got onto the bed on top of Ginger.
Mary Ann's palms slid up Ginger's torso, fingertips tracing the faint golden sheen left by the tropical sun. She marveled at the way Ginger's stomach tensed beneath her touch—taut yet yielding, like warm taffy stretched over firm muscle. The scent of coconut oil and salt hung heavy between them as Mary Ann bent low, her breath ghosting over Ginger's navel. "God, you're gorgeous," she murmured before pressing an open-mouthed kiss just below Ginger's ribs. The taste was intoxicating—briny sweat and something richer underneath, like vanilla extract spilled on sun-warmed skin.
Ginger arched into the contact with a throaty laugh, her fingers threading through Mary Ann's hair. "Go on, farmer's girl," she purred, rolling her hips upward. "See if I measure up to cannibal standards." Mary Ann responded by dragging her tongue in a slow, wet stripe from Ginger's hipbone to her sternum, savoring the way Ginger's abdominal muscles fluttered beneath her lips. The flavor exploded on her tongue—spiced rum lingering in Ginger's pores, the tang of her arousal, and something distinctly metallic that made Mary Ann groan. "You taste like—" she gasped between licks, "—like licking the blade of a pocketknife after cutting mangoes. Dangerous and sweet."
Ginger's breath hitched when Mary Ann's teeth grazed the sensitive skin just above her navel. "Fuck, keep talking," she demanded, bucking upward. Mary Ann obeyed, swirling her tongue around the divot before murmuring against slick skin, "And right here—" she sucked lightly, drawing a moan from Ginger, "—like saltwater taffy stretched too thin. Like if you left champagne out in the sun." Her hands slid beneath Ginger's thighs, hiking them higher as she traced the crease where torso met leg with the very tip of her tongue. The musk here was thicker, heady enough to make Mary Ann's vision blur. "Jesus, you're like—" she panted, "—like biting into a persimmon when it's so ripe it's almost rotten. Perfect."
Ginger's fingers clenched in Mary Ann's hair, wrenching her head back just enough to lock eyes. "That's ‘movie star’ persimmon to you," she rasped, then shoved Mary Ann's face against her stomach with a roll of her hips. The sudden press of skin to skin sent a jolt through them both—Mary Ann moaned openly now, lapping at the sweat pooled in the hollow of Ginger's bellybutton like it was the last water on the island. Every lick drew out more flavor: the ghost of rum, the citrus tang of adrenaline, and underneath it all, something darkly addictive that made Mary Ann's pulse throb between her legs.
Their legs tangled as they flipped positions, Ginger's mouth crashing onto Mary Ann's stomach with none of the cannibals' reverence—just raw hunger. She sucked a bruise high on Mary Ann's hipbone that would sting tomorrow, her tongue plunging into the deep well of her navel while Mary Ann squirmed. Above her, Ginger's thighs bracketed Mary Ann's face, her wet heat hovering just inches from Mary Ann's parted lips. The scent alone made Mary Ann dizzy—spiced musk and coconut oil with something darker, like overripe guava split open. She craned her neck to taste, but Ginger pinned her hips down with a growl. "Uh-uh," she chided between bites along Mary Ann's ribs, "you wanted to know what you tasted like first."
Mary Ann whimpered, fingers scrabbling at Ginger's back as the redhead's tongue traced every ridge of her abdomen. "I—I think I'd starve," she gasped, arching under Ginger's mouth, "if all I had was—was coconut cream pie after this." The confession spilled out between panting breaths, her hands sliding up Ginger's sweat-slicked thighs. "How could I ever—oh god, right there—ever go back to dessert when you—when you taste like—" Ginger's teeth sank into the soft flesh above her pelvis, cutting off her words with a cry.
Ginger pulled back just enough to smirk, her lips shining with Mary Ann's sweat. "Sweetheart," she purred, dragging a fingertip through the mess she'd made between Mary Ann's legs before popping it in her mouth, "you've been eating fruit when you could've been licking ambrosia." She rolled her hips forward, grinding against Mary Ann's chin, letting her feel the heat radiating through damp curls. "But don't worry—" Her tongue darted out to catch a bead of sweat rolling down Mary Ann's sternum, "—I'll make sure you never go hungry again."
Mary Ann gasped as Ginger's fingers finally—finally—slid between her thighs, pressing against her clit with just enough pressure to make her see stars. The sensation of Ginger's stomach muscles flexing against her own as they moved together sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through her. "Fuck," she whimpered, arching into the touch, her nails leaving crescent moons on Ginger's hips. "You—you feel like—" Ginger swallowed Mary Ann's broken words with a kiss, their tongues tangling as she slipped two fingers inside, curling them just right to make Mary Ann sob.
Ginger pulled back just enough to watch Mary Ann unravel beneath her—chest flushed, lips parted, stomach quivering with each thrust. "Look at you," she breathed, her thumb circling Mary Ann's clit in tight, relentless circles. "No wonder they wanted to devour you." Mary Ann's hips jerked erratically, her thighs trembling as Ginger's fingers dragged against that sweet, spongy spot inside her. The wet sounds between them were obscene, mingling with Mary Ann's punched-out moans and the creak of the cot beneath them.
Mary Ann's hands flew to Ginger's breasts, squeezing hard enough to make Ginger gasp. "Touch yourself," Mary Ann demanded, her voice ragged. "I want—need—to see you come while you're fucking me." Ginger didn't hesitate, her free hand slipping between her own thighs, fingers sliding through slick folds with a groan. The sight of Ginger pleasuring herself atop her—muscles taut, sweat gleaming in the torchlight—sent Mary Ann spiraling higher, her orgasm coiling tight in her belly.
Ginger's fingers moved inside Mary Ann with ruthless precision, her thumb never letting up on Mary Ann's clit. "That's it," Ginger purred, breath hot against Mary Ann's ear. "Come for me, baby. Let me taste how good you are." Mary Ann shattered with a cry, her back arching off the cot as pleasure ripped through her. Ginger didn't slow, fucking her through the aftershocks, her own hips stuttering as she chased her climax.
Mary Ann's hands flew to Ginger's ass, pulling her impossibly closer as she surged up to capture Ginger's mouth in a filthy kiss. She could taste herself on Ginger's tongue—sweet and musky, like overripe fruit left to ferment in the sun. Ginger moaned into the kiss, her fingers still buried deep inside Mary Ann while her own hand worked frantically between her thighs.
"I wish—fuck—I was one of them," Mary Ann gasped against Ginger's lips, her teeth sinking into the full swell of Ginger's bottom lip. "Wish I could—oh god—lick every inch of you slow, savor you like they wanted to savor me." Her tongue traced the seam of Ginger's mouth before plunging back in, mimicking the way she wished she could devour Ginger's pussy right now. "Would start here," she murmured, nipping at Ginger's jaw, "then work down—tease your nipples 'til they're hard as island berries—"
Ginger's moan was half-laugh, half-scream as Mary Ann's mouth finally—finally—found her clit, lapping at it like she was dying of thirst. "Jesus, Mary Ann—yes—like that," she panted, her thighs clamping around Mary Ann's head as if she might bolt. Mary Ann groaned against Ginger's slick heat, her tongue circling in slow, obscene spirals—the way she imagined cannibals would lap broth from a bowl. Ginger tasted like stolen champagne and sea salt, like something that should be illegal to consume outside of temple rituals.
"Fuck, I would," Mary Ann growled against Ginger's clit, sucking hard enough to make her thighs shake. "If I was one of them—if they'd taught me how—I'd tie you up and lick you for days." She punctuated each word with a flick of her tongue, imagining ropes biting into Ginger's wrists, imagined her own hands rubbing rum into that perfect stomach just to lap it back up. "Start with your fucking ankles," she hissed, dragging her teeth over Ginger's inner thigh, "work up—suck every freckle— on your thighs—"
Ginger's laugh dissolved into a moan as Mary Ann's fingers replaced her mouth—two plunging inside while her thumb pressed cruel circles on her clit. "Christ, who knew—ah!—nearly getting eaten would be the hottest—fuck—thing we've ever done?" Her hips stuttered, toes curling against the rough-woven sheets. "Should've—ohgodrightthere—let them keep you longer, taught you proper—" The rest was lost in a gasp as Mary Ann twisted her fingers, curling them just so.
Ginger came with a cry that sent seabirds scattering from the hut's thatched roof, her thighs clamping around Mary Ann's wrist like a vice. Her stomach muscles rippled under Mary Ann's free hand—taut then slack—as pleasure slammed through her in waves. For a heartbeat, Mary Ann swore she could taste the cannibals' stolen spice on Ginger's skin, something primal and hungry beneath the salt-sweat and rum.
They collapsed sideways onto the sweat-slicked cot, Ginger's red curls sticking to Mary Ann's collarbone as she gasped into the hollow of her throat. The torchlight painted their twitching limbs gold, catching the sheen between their thighs where they pressed together still. Mary Ann's fingertips traced lazy circles on Ginger's hipbone—slow now, post-climax tenderness replacing the frantic hunger of minutes before.
Lying together in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Mary Ann became reflective. A troubling thought occurred to her.
"Ginger", she thought out loud, "Does this mean that we're lesbians?"
Ginger took a moment to answer.
"No", she replied. "We're who we always have been. We're two delicious castaways on an island where there are few men and where woman-eating cannibals and headhunters lurk in the jungle."
Mary Ann relaxed as she listened to Ginger's words. Ginger was right, she thought. She could live with that.