tagErotic CouplingsThree Men, a Boat, and Naked Women

Three Men, a Boat, and Naked Women

bySusanJillParker©

This is an Nude Day contest story. Please vote, make a comment and add me and/or this story to your favorite list.

Be careful what you wish for, because you may get your wish.


*

"What do you want to do today?" John looked at his friends, Bob and Mike.

"The Red Sox are playing Tampa Bay at Fenway today," said Bob. "Let's go watch them lose."

"Nah, unless you wanna roast in the bleachers, you just can't go to the ballpark and buy tickets," said John. "They've been sold out for more than nine years. Even if you buy a ticket from a scalper, all the season ticket holders and corporations have the best seats already taken, anyway. Besides, they're playing Tampa Bay away today at Tropicana Field in Florida."

"I'd rather go fishing, anyway," said Mike looking up at the sky. "It's a beautiful day to float the boat on the water, have a few beers, and a few laughs. What do you say? C'mon, let's go fishing."

"You guys are boring. You act, as if you're retired. You're already old fuddy-duddies," said John looking at his two friends. "You never want to do anything. Don't you know what day it is today?"

"It's Saturday," said Bob. "So?"

"What else?" John looked at his friends with a face full of excitement.

"July 14th," said Mike. "So?"

"What else?" John looked from Bob to Mike.

"I dunno. I give up," said Bob. "Is it your birthday?"

"I really don't care what day it is, other than I'm off from work," said Mike slapping Bob a high five.

"Today is naked women day, Nude Day," said John. "I say we go downtown and celebrate Nude Day with all those hot, young, drunken and drugged out chicks stripping off their clothes to celebrate the holiday naked on the Boston Common, while splashing and frolicking in the Frog Pond."

"Last year the cops came and threatened to arrest everyone for removing their clothes," said Bob.

"They threaten to arrest everyone, every year, but they never do. For one day a year, Nude Day, it's a game they all play to keep Nude Day from turning into a naked orgy. After the cops leave, the women take off their tops and bras again anyway," said John. "C'mon. Let's go. I wanna see some tits. I love tits, round, full tits, with big, puffy, pink nipples. Maybe we'll get lucky."

"Nah, we did that last year and almost got beat up by their drunken boyfriends for leering at their naked girlfriends," said Mike.

"C'mon, you guys. We should do something fun to celebrate National Nude Day, the naked holiday. A day of being naked only comes around once a year and by the time the freezing cold of winter comes around too soon again, we'll be kicking ourselves, if we don't do something sexually fun this summer," said John looking from Bob to Mike.

"Nah, I'd rather go fishing," said Mike.

"Me, too," said Bob. "At my age, the only time I'll get lucky is maybe catching a fish, instead of a naked woman."

"I know what we can do," said John. "We can go to Kelly's Irish Tavern and Pub in South Boston. We haven't been to Southie since the big brawl at the Saint Paddy's Day parade."

"Why get drunk in a bar, when we can soak up the fresh air and sunshine on a boat? We may even catch a fist or two," said Bob. "I'm with Mike. I vote to go fishing."

"Kelly's always hire strippers that walk the bar for the customers' entertainment on Nude Day," said John. "Last year, in honor of Nude Day, the owner had that Playboy Playmate, Miss July of 2011, signing autographed photos of herself naked self. Boy, did she ever have big tits. Maybe he'll have her again or have Miss Playboy Playmate of 2011 or Miss July of 2012. I just love Playboy Playmates."

"Nah, even though there are always lots of naked and semi-naked chicks in the bar and in the Boston Common, we never score because the three of us are old and fat," said Mike waving a hand of disinterest.

"Unfortunately, I have to agree with Mike. With my best days long behind me, if I were a younger man with more hair, all my teeth, and a harder and bigger cock, I'd gladly hangout at Kelly's Pub," said Bob. "Definitely, if I looked the way I did twenty years ago, I'd get lucky. In the way that I look now, I'll just be ignored."

"Yeah, young chicks don't want fat and old guys. If only I were rich, women wouldn't care what the Hell I looked like," said Mike with sadness. "C'mon, let's go fishin'. Not bad enough looking yet, to scare off the fish, the fish don't give a shit what the Hell we look like. I'll even buy the beer," said Mike.

Armed with a couple of coolers and a case of cold ones, John, Bob, and Mike guided their small boat to a place where they had never fished before. Further out than they usually go and further away from the shore, they hoped the fish were biting in this new place, out in the middle of nowhere. Still not having any luck with the fish and after drinking one too many beers, getting late in the afternoon, the three men more cared about heading for home than catching fish.

"Hey, look over there in the water," said John. "What's that?"

"It's a green fish bobbing it's head up and down in the water," said Mike. "It's taunting us and teasing us, begging to be caught," he laughed. "That fish is laughing at us. C'mon, let's get the bastard."

"Nah, you're drunk," said Bob. "That's not a fish. It's a beer bottle, to be exact, it's a Saint Pauli Girl beer bottle. Having swallowed enough of them, I'd recognize that label drunk and with my eyes half closed," he said slurring his words, while drunk and with his eyes half closed.

John steered his little boat close enough to grab the bottle by the neck.

"Hey, there's something inside," he said retrieving the bottle from the water and shaking it.

"Maybe there's a secret message inside," said Mike, "written by someone long ago, who was trapped on a desert island. Maybe they rolled up a map and stuck it in there to where they buried a chest of treasure for us to find. Boy, I'd love to find a treasure chest full of money."

"You have quite the imagination, Mike. Toss me the bottle opener," said John.

As soon as he popped the top, a bluish/green mist emerged from the bottle and grew bigger and wider, before taking form in the shape of a man more than 7' tall. With the bottom part of the him, his ankles and feet, still trapped in the bottle, all three men fell back on their haunches, when a Genii appeared suspended in midair.

"Whoever shall save me, I'm at your demand. I give you one wish. Your wish is my command," he said with authority and folding his arms across his chest, while glaring down at the three men.

"Gees, why couldn't we get Barbara Eden," said Mike whispering to Bob, "instead of this fat, old Genii? I always loved her. She had big tits and was wicked pretty."

"First of all, I'm in the same boat with you three knuckleheads. I can hear you," said the Genii. "Secondly, Barbara Eden wasn't a real Genii. She was an actress on a situation comedy in the '60's playing a Genii. Now make your wish, so that I can be on my way," he said impatiently. "I haven't seen my five wives and thirty-seven children in one-hundred-fifty years."

"Sorry," said Mike.

"He has a German accent," whispered John. "I figured he'd have an accent from a middle eastern country. Aren't all Genii's from Persia or Morocco?"

"Duh, Saint Pauli Girl is German beer. He's probably a German Genii," said Bob from Berlin or Heidelberg."

"I've been locked in that damn beer bottle, since the 19th century, 1857 to be exact, one-hundred-fifty-five years to be exact, when I gave the founder of Saint Pauli Girl his wish to start a brewery. I swear, I had no idea that St. Pauli was his wife. Oh, but that wench was wicked good in bed and even better, when on her knees. She did things to me that even a Genii can't and shouldn't do," he said with a smile. "Now make you wishes."

"Damn," said Bob. "I don't care how good someone is in bed, I'd never want to be trapped in an empty beer bottle for more than one-hundred-fifty-five years. That's just wrong."

"Pardon me, tired of waiting for you guys to make a wish, I really have to take a wicked bad piss," said the Genii, turning the other way to pee over the side of the boat. Twenty minutes later with the water steaming from a yellow haze floating across on the surface of the water, he was done peeing. "Ah, you have no idea how much better I feel relieving my bladder after one hundred and fifty-five years," he said patting his big belly.

"I never saw or heard anyone pee that long and that much. Look," said Mike pointing to the water. "Dead fish are floating to the surface. At least we know there are fish in there or were in there. Gross. The water stinks of urine."

"Sorry, sometimes that happens. Now, what the Hell do you guys want for setting me free? Whoever shall save me, I'm at your demand. I give you one wish. Your wish is my command," said the Genii folding his arms in front of his body again but being more officious this time, before looking at Bob first. "What's your wish?"

"I want to live to be 110, no 125, and be in perfect health, until the day that I die," said Bob to the Genii. "Deferring collecting Social Security, until I receive the maximum benefit in my old age, I wanna outlive my wife and kids and collect on their life insurance policies, too. Then, maybe at 95-years-old, I'll find a nice looking 40-year-old woman. I want people to say, when seeing me in my coffin, how good I still look for a dead man," said Bob to John and Mike.

"Are you sure your wish is to live to be 125-year-old and in perfect health?" The Genii looked at him long and hard. "Once I grant you your wish, I can't take it back."

"Yeah, I'm sure. What are you nuts? Who wouldn't want to live to be 125-years-old and be in perfect health?"

"Your wish is granted," said the Genii to Bob with a nod of his head.

Suddenly, magically, and instantly, Bob looked younger and had no more aches and pains. Muscles replaced fat and his hair and teeth returned to him. Then, when he looked down his pants, low and behold, his cock was bigger and harder than it's ever been.

"Wow! I feel great," he said doing his best impersonation of Tony the Tiger.

"What about you, nimrod?" The Genii turned Mike. " Whoever shall save me, I'm at your demand. I give you one wish. Your wish is my command," said the Genii with his arms folded across his chest, while glaring at Mike.

"My name is Mike, Genii. Careful or instead of allowing you to grant me my wish, I'll stick your ass back in this bottle," he said, while John held up the Genii in the bottle and as the bottle exploded in hand.

"Best you not piss off a Genii," whispered John shaking his head and recoiling away from the Genii.

"Yeah," said Bob looking out at all the dead fish. "Definitely, just as you don't want to piss him off, you don't want him peeing on you either."

"As a Genii of honor, even though you've insulted me, I'll still grant you your one wish. Just hurry up and make a wish, Mike, please. I have places to go, things to do, and people to see. What is your wish?"

"Okay, I want a million, no a billion American dollars in cash and in small, unmarked bills," said Mike, but not here and not right now. I want the money deposited down my cellar. Otherwise, my hardwood floor in my house would cave in. I'm always thinking," he said tapping his head with his index finger. "Do you know how much a billion dollars weighs? If he dumped a billion dollars on our little boat, now, we'd sink to the bottom."

"No, I have no idea how much a billion dollars weighs," said Bob. "How much does a billion dollars weigh?"

"Let's see," said Mike, "I read somewhere that a million dollars in one hundred dollar bills weighs 22 pounds. So, if a million dollars in one hundred dollars bills weighs 22 pounds than a billion dollars would weigh...220 pounds for 10 million, 2,220 for 100 million and--"

"Gees, a billion dollars weighs 22,220 pounds," said the Genii. "What don't you understand about just adding zeros. You really are a nimrod, aren't you? Let's get on with this, shall we?"

"Oh, and as part of my wish, I want a bag filled with tens and twenties, ten thousand dollars in total to be exact, with a note that just reads, 'Bye!', to rid myself of my wife, Sheila," he said laughing. "Once I have my billion dollars cash in hand, I'll be kissing her ass good-bye and ten thousand dollars is all she's worth. With us being married almost ten years, I figure a thousand dollars a year is more than enough to leave her."

"Are you sure your wish is to have a billion American dollars in small, unmarked bills deposited on your cellar floor, along with a bag of ten thousand dollars in small bills, with the note, "Bye!", to rid yourself of your wife, Sheila?" The Genii looked at him long and hard. "Once I grant you your wish, I can't take it back."

"Duh? Who wouldn't want to have a billion dollars in cash and to get rid of his wife at the same time? With being single and on the prowl again, I can only imagine all the things that I can do and all the women I can have with a billion dollars in cash," he said giving the thumbs up to his friends. "Aren't you glad we went fishing on Nude Day, John?"

"Your wish is granted," said the Genii to Mike with a nod of his head.

"Oh, my God. I can't wait to go home to see all that beautiful money," said Mike rubbing his hands together, as if he was a fly that just landed on a lump of excrement. "Money, money, money, a billion dollars in money."

"Now you," said the Genii to John. "What do you want? Whoever shall save me, I'm at your demand. I give you one wish. Your wish is my command," said the Genii folding his arms across his chest and peering down at John.

"That's easy," he said with a big smile.

"Aw, gees, there's always one in every crowd, who reads Arabian literature and who knows exactly what to wish for, when the time to make a wish is at hand. I already know what your wish is," said the Genii dryly. "It's been done before and by better men than you, Rockefeller, Carnegie, Vanderbilt, Gates, Zuckerberg, and Obama, even those no talent bums, Howard Sterns and Howie Mandel both came across a Genii, once in their lives."

"Then, of course, you already know that, as my one wish, I want more wishes," said John.

"I figured as much," said the Genii, "but you just can't ask for more wishes. We have a cap, you know. There's a limit to the number of wishes that you can ask for and that I can give you," said the Genii looking at John long and hard. "I'll tell you what I'll do to be fair. I'll give you three wishes, instead of just the one wish. That way, you can wish for health, wealth, and happiness, as everyone else with no imagination does, when they can't think of anything else to wish for, after they've wasted their one wish on world peace, or to feed all the hungry, or to cure Cancer. God, I hate hippies," he said. "They're all so altruistic and so out of touch with the today's state of political reality."

"I wish I had thought of asking for more wishes," said Bob. "I would have thrown in a beautiful woman, too with my longevity, one with big tits, named Crystal, Tiffany, Ellie Mae Clampett, or Elvira, if you know what I mean."

"Me, too," said Mike. "I wish I had thought to ask for more wishes. I would have wished that my wife, Sheila, was already my ex-wife and long gone, so I wouldn't have to go through a nasty divorce and give her any part of my billion dollars."

"I hope you're going to split your wishes with us, John," said Bob.

"Yeah, be a pal, John, and give us each another wish," said Mike.

"Thirteen wishes, Genii," said John. "My wish is to have thirteen wishes."

"I'll grant you five and that's as many wishes as--"

"One hundred wishes, then," said John. "I want one hundred wishes. My wish is to have one hundred--"

"Okay, okay. Whoever shall save me, I'm at your demand. I give you thirteen wishes. Your wishes are my command," he said folding his arms across his chest, while glaring down at John. "You're worse than Donald Trump. Every time he makes a wish, he buys another property, renews his stupid television show, The Apprentice, and gets divorced to marry another, young enough to be his daughter. raving beauty."

"Thank you, Genii."

"Thirteen wishes it is," said the Genii eying John with curiosity. "Your wishes are granted," said the Genii to John with a nod of his head. "Now make your wishes. I'm curious what you're going to wish for with 13 wishes."

"I don't want to make my wishes, now. I'd rather wait," said John with thoughtfulness.

"Smart man," said the Genii reaching in his pocket and pulling out a coin, a gold doubloon, and tossing it to John. "When you're ready to make your wishes, rub the coin and say, Genii three times and in quick succession."

Then, in the same bluish/green mist that he arrived in, he disappeared.

"Wow! I don't believe this," said Bob. "Look at me. I look and feel twenty years younger."

"A billion dollars. I can't believe I have a billion dollars waiting for me at the house," said Mike.

"What are you wishing for with your thirteen wishes?" Bob looked at John.

"Yeah, what's up your sleeve, John?" Mike looked at his friend with curiosity.

"I haven't decided, yet, but, since you guys didn't want to celebrate National Nude Day, I want to do something in the spirit of Nude Day for next year."

Even though the Genii warned them to be careful in what they wished for and to make sure that what they wished for is what they really wanted, Bob and Mike didn't put the thought in their wishes that John had. While driving home drunk, after dropping off John and Mike at their houses, Bob was too drunk to see the stop sign and crashed his truck into a station wagon full of six Nuns. A horrific accident, a waste of good pussy, five, young convent Nuns of the Holy Order of Saintly Virgins burnt to death in their vehicle.

Oh, the inhumanity of it all, to die before ever experiencing a cock. The one Nun, who didn't die was the Nun, who was sitting next to her unlocked door and who wasn't wearing her seatbelt. Miraculously with God protecting her, she was thrown from the car and survived with just a broken arm and leg. With the anger of a empowered court, a fed up judge, and a vengeful jury in support of Sister Mary Frances, she sat in the witness stand to point out the man, who killed her five fellow sisters.

"That's him! That's the drunken man, who sped through the stop sign and T-boned our car," said Sister Mary Frances.

Found guilty of five counts of vehicular manslaughter, his third drunken driving offense, the judge threw the book at him and sentenced him to 20 years to life for each Nun he killed. Basically given a life sentence with Bob already 45-years-old, even with good behavior, he wouldn't be getting out of prison for 80-years, when he'd be 125-years-old. Now, wishing he were dead, he wished he never wished for a longer life. Instead, like John, he wished he had save his wish. If he still had his one wish, he could use it to wish to escape from prison. If only, like John, he had the foresight enough to ask for more wishes.

Mike wasn't having much success with his wish either. Expecting to see a billion American dollars in small, unmarked bills, along with a paper bag filled with ten thousand dollars with the note, "Bye!", he saw nothing. With his front door wide open, as if his house had been suddenly abandoned, Mike was surprised to see his house was empty. With no sign of his wife, he knocked at his neighbor's door.

"Hi, Marge. Sheila isn't home and I was just wondering if--"

"Oh, I thought she was with you. An armored car, five of them, actually, left your house an hour ago. I figured you guys were moving. Here," she said handing him a bag. "Sheila gave me this to give to you."

When Mike returned home, he dumped the contents of the bag on the kitchen table and counted the money. A mere ten thousand dollars, there was a note intended for her but given to him, "Bye!" She left with all of his money.

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