Mary Ann was glad that she'd shared her feelings with Gilligan. Not that he returned them, but at least she didn't have to keep them secret anymore. And she and Gilligan understood each other better now.
It felt good cuddling in front of the fire, and not just because they'd gotten soaked by the rain. His arms were long and warm, and she liked them wrapped around her like this.
It was different than if he'd never done much more than this with Ginger. But Mary Ann was doing her best to control her jealousy. She was the one he was with that night, even if it wasn't exactly by choice. Maybe tomorrow, he'd go back to Ginger, but there was no harm in a little snuggling in the meantime.
"This is nice," he said.
"Uh huh."
"Can I kiss you?"
She was surprised. The old Gilligan wouldn't have started anything. He just reacted to what she, and Ginger, did, usually with fear or confusion.
She couldn't help asking, "Is this so you can compare my kisses to Ginger's?"
"No, you've both been kissing me for years. I just want to see what it's like to kiss you when I'm not just letting it happen to me."
She supposed she could've said no, but like he said, it wasn't like they'd never kissed before. And she did want to kiss him, and Ginger probably wouldn't mind. Mary Ann shifted in Gilligan's arms so that her face was close to his and puckered up.
His warm lips met hers and it almost felt like a first kiss because it was different than before. Gilligan was still sweet but he was no longer shy. Despite her jealousy, Mary Ann was grateful to Ginger for teaching him whatever she'd taught him. Or maybe he knew some of this instinctively and Ginger just brought it out in him.
He stroked Mary Ann's hair with one hand and her face with the other, as his lips moved against hers. And then his tongue slipped between his lips and lightly licked hers till she opened them with a soft sigh, and his tongue slipped between them, too.
Part of her was thinking that this was the sort of kiss that Aunt Martha had warned her about, the sort of kiss that led to other things. But the other part remembered that Aunt Martha was thousands of miles away and probably thought she had died, which could've happened a few times in the past three years. And all of Mary Ann was aware that she was alone with the man of her dreams, as he held her and made her feel good. The soft but flexible, wet, pink part in her mouth greeted and played with its matching visitor.
After awhile, they paused, and he breathlessly asked, "Do you like that?"
"Yes, Gilligan," she said, too shy to say in words how much she liked it.
"Good," he whispered in her ear. "You tell me when you stop liking it."
She couldn't imagine ever not liking kissing Gilligan, but then he switched to necking and she realized he meant stop liking what he was doing. He was now the experienced one and he was bringing his Gilligany eagerness to making out. It would be up to her to say how far was too far.
The trouble was, she didn't know anymore. She was raised to be a good girl, but the world was changing, and their island was its own little world. And this was the man she loved, even if he was in love with someone else. Still, a little necking was OK.
She kissed and caressed his sensitive neck and ears as he did the same to hers. Sometimes it felt so good that they had to say each other's names into each other's ears. Outside, the storm continued. No one could hear them, or even find them. Mother Nature was giving them time together.
When Gilligan's hand traveled down her throat and all the way to her chest, she didn't stop it. She didn't say that this was all happening too fast, that she wasn't that kind of a girl. Instead she was thinking of all the times she'd dressed to show off her figure, to get Gilligan to notice and appreciate that she was a girl. So in a way, this wasn't fast at all, even if it was all happening in one dark and stormy night.
His hand cupped her left breast and she was sure he could feel her fast heartbeat through her bra and the top of the minidress. Then his hand grazed over her nipple, which hardened even at that distant contact. He smiled and French-kissed her again.
As his tongue teased hers, she wondered if he was thinking of teasing her nipple with it. And his fingers kept wandering back to the nipple, playing with it through the fabric, till he was driving her crazy. She kissed over to his ear and whispered, "Please unzip me, Gilligan!"
"I'd be happy to, Mary Ann," he whispered in her ear, and then gave her ear a quick lick.
She knew that whatever else happened that night, she now no longer met the Horner's Corners definition of a good girl, and she couldn't have been happier.