The Floating Threesome Pt. 06

How is it that some guys get lucky with women all the time? For Burt Olsen, luck has nothing to do with it. In The Floating Threesome he figured out a perfect way to persuade lots of women to have sex. The story unfolds in 11 short chapters. In Chapter 6, Burt is surprised by developments in the life of his friend Jack..

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Just as I'd hoped, my plan was working. I had delivered on my promise to my friend Jack when I said we'd find ourselves "neck deep in prime pussy." After I took the first girl sailing, and got laid successfully, I went back to invite Jack to get some. "Hey buddy, how'd you like to look at some bikini pictures? I've got dozens of girls anxious to go on a cruise and suck your cock."

To my great surprise, Jack wasn't interested. "I think I'll pass," he said. "I'm seeing someone."

Although I wanted the best for Jack, and I felt he deserved love as much as anyone, people recovering from addiction are encouraged not to get into serious relationships. The idea is that they aren't emotionally ready to get involved with someone unless they'd been sober a long time. My concern increased when Jack said that the woman he was dating was someone he'd met at a 12-step program. Rehabilitation counselors say it's a very bad idea for addicts to get romantic. There's just too much chance that one could relapse and drag the other back into their addiction.

But Jack was a big boy capable of making his own decisions, so I didn't voice my fears. His therapist was surely doing that. Jack seemed to be doing pretty well, so I just decided to hope for the best.

"What's the name of the lucky girl," I said.

"Her name is Mary, and you're going to meet her soon," Jack said. "I'm going to have her come over and show her how I'm building the boat. If things work out, I might have her help me on a regular basis."

"Sounds sweet. I'm sure that spreading fiberglass epoxy can be very romantic."

Jack laughed. "Mary is a master carpenter with lots of professional experience in residential construction, including cabintry," he said. "She knows more than me about a lot of construction technology. I'm hoping she has skills that will make the boat better than it would be if I do all the work myself."

I later learned there was a factor Jack didn't mention. Mary was enrolled in the same court-ordered program as Jack. She was a convicted felon, and had to stay clean for a year to get her conviction expunged. She got fired from her job when she got arrested, and she discovered that most places won't hire convicted felons. She needed a job, and Jack wanted to give her one. The whole situation seemed dangerous to me. I was afraid something would go wrong that would endanger Jack's sobriety.

To my great relief, things worked out fine. Jack and Mary seemed to support each other's efforts to remain clean and sober. I met Mary and liked her. She was cute in a tomboy kind of way. I could see her as a woman who might gravitate to a male-dominated professional like carpentry.

I could also see that she and Jack were just crazy about each other. They spent a lot of time kissing and hugging when they were supposed to be working on the boat. But Mary seemed anxious to work the same long hours as Jack. They both needed something to occupy their time, and building an innovative new sailboat seemed like the perfect activity for both of them.

It wasn't long before Jack moved out of the camper and into Mary's apartment. They went to 12-step meetings together, reported to the same probation officer, and consistently took urine tests that proved they weren't relapsing. I was very relieved, and I became extremely fond of Mary as it became clear that she was enriching my friend's life. Jack deserved it.

This meant the boat began taking shape faster than expected. I hung a map of the Caribbean in my office and started sticking pins into the places I thought we could visit on our cruise. As time went by I became increasingly sure that Taylor would be the woman who'd travel with me. The sex with her was fabulous, and over time I saw that she would be an excellent companion during such a lengthy voyage. We'd get along fine.

She made sure I kept her in mind. Taylor started finding creative ways to remind me that she wanted the job. One day she texted me a photo of her posing in a very sexy bikini. I could tell it was just an amateur photo taken by some friend of hers, but it did the job of making her look smoking hot. "I thought this might make a good uniform for the first mate. What do you think?" she texted.

My response was this: "I need to see it in person. Can we go sailing Saturday? Sunday?"

She said "Sunday would be good!" Then she included a couple of emojis, including a smiley face blowing a kiss, a big red heart, and the thumbs up symbol. Do they make emojis of somebody getting a blowjob? If not, that seems like an oversight.

Over time, I noticed that Taylor almost always preferred to sail on Sundays. She was never available on Fridays or Saturdays. I had a feeling those days were reserved for some boyfriend. Despite the fact that we had all kinds of crazy sex whenever we got together, I never got the sense she wanted any kind of exclusive relationship. It was very clear that she wanted the modeling job, and not clear at all if she wanted anything else.

One day I got an opportunity to take Taylor sailing on one of Jack's original Sanderling catamarans. The owner went sailing, got good and drunk, and rammed into a peer. It threw him from the boat; his friends saved the moron from drowning. The boat is so well made it wasn't seriously damaged, but there was an ugly crack on the front of the right hull. He brought it back to us so Jack could clean out the crack, fill it with fiberglass resin, then repaint it. By the time Jack was finished, there was no sign of damage anywhere.

While we had the boat in the shop, I decided I'd use it to take Taylor sailing. I hadn't taken her out on a catamaran yet. The Sanderling was a tiny little boat, but it was a lot of fun, and it would help Taylor begin to understand the difference between a monohull and a catamaran. My intention was to let her see why the cruise I planned would be alot more comfortable than the excursions we'd done so far.

As I expected, Taylor loved it. "This thing is FAST!" she said. Like all catamarans, the Sanderling was a very swift boat, and it felt even faster because the seats in the hulls put you just inches above the water. We were only out for a few hours. It wasn't my boat, and I wanted to get it back to the shop so we could clean it up to return it to its actual owner. But we accomplished what I wanted. Taylor had no trouble understanding the advantages of having two hulls instead of one.

It wasn't even lunch time when we finished, so I took Taylor to a nice restaurant and offered to drive her home. Every time before, we had sex when we went sailing. There was no space or privacy on the Sanderling, so there was no romance, either. I'm sure that's why Taylor invited me inside when we got to her apartment. She wanted to make sure she reminded me that if she went on the cruise, I'd get a steady diet of hot sex.

Taylor's apartment was so nice I was impressed. It was a big, comfortable place in the middle of an expensive Miami neighborhood. Her building attracted a lot of successful people with the money to afford a very nice place to live.

"This is beautiful, Taylor," I said. "What a great apartment. It looks like a place done by a designer, but I'm betting you did all this."

"Thank you, Burt. Yes, I did all the decorating. It was fun. I'm good at stuff like that," she said.

"You're good at all kinds of stuff," I said. That made her smile, because she knew that when I said "all kinds of stuff," I was talking about sex. She took me in her arms, gave me a hot kiss, and took my hand. "Let me show you the bedroom," she said.

The bedroom was just as nice as the living room, but I didn't spend much time admiring the decor. I was too busy watching Taylor take off her shirt, followed by a fancy lace bra. She was naked in a few more seconds, and it didn't take me long to strip off my clothes and lay down next to her on the bed.

Taylor took command. She straddled my body and began massaging my cock with her bare pussy. I was half-erect when she started, but she had me hard as iron almost immediately. She knew I loved it when we had sex cowgirl-style. Taylor was a staggeringly beautiful woman. Looking up and admiring her sexy body as she rode up and down on my cock made me feel like the luckiest man in Miami.

She leaned forward, putting her palms on my chest for support. That put her breasts in a perfect place for me to caress and admire them. One of Taylor's many fine qualities was the fact that she was absolutely confident about her body. Lots of lovely women think there's something wrong with their breasts, or their belly, or their ass. Taylor understood that she was perfect the way she was. She never got obnoxious about it. I enjoyed being with a woman who was completely free of hang-ups when she was naked.

Whenever Taylor rode me cowgirl style, she liked being in control of how much stimulation she got. As the minutes passed, she used more and more force when she rubbed her clit against my body. It made her gasp for breath and move faster and faster. I loved watching her as she became so excited she seemed ready to lose control. By this time she knew that I didn't like to climax before her, so she made no effort to drag things out.

"Uhhhhhhhh!" she said as she came. "Uhhhhhhh! Uhhhhhhhh!" I could feel her pussy throbbing as she rammed down on my cock for the last time. When it was over, she fell forward into my arms.

"It's been a good day so far," she said.

I rolled her over on the bed and began making love missionary style. By this time my cock wanted to cum so badly that I knew I wouldn't be able to prolong things. It didn't matter - Taylor had a nice orgasm, and that was all I cared about. When I started to climax, Taylor said something she often says.

"Give me your cum, Burt," she said. "Give me your hot, wet cum." Another one of Taylor's fine qualities was that she wasn't even slightly squeamish about bodily fluids. Whether I was kissing her right after eating her pussy, getting a blowjob, or filling her with cum, Taylor loved it all.

I rolled off Taylor's body and laid next to her. She stretched, yawned, and said something very sweet. "Burt, since I met you, I've gotten more good sex than ever before in my life. You are a real find."

"That's a very gracious thing to say," I replied. "You are the sexiest woman I've ever met."

I wondered if she was telling the truth. It could be true - we certainly had a lot of sex, and it seemed pretty great to me - but a woman like Taylor could attract any man she wanted. This might be another example of her saying something just to make me feel good. I couldn't tell if I was hearing sincerity or salesmanship.

"It's true. Do you realize that you have made me have an orgasm at least once every single time we've had sex? Every single time. Your cock and my pussy are very fond of each other." I laughed at that. "My cock always gets excited when your pussy is around," I said.

We engaged in smalltalk for a while, and then I asked a question that led to a surprising answer. "Taylor, I just realized that I've never asked what you do for a living. Judging by this apartment, you are very successful at something. Are you a stock broker? Hedge fund manager? Cartel boss? What?"

Taylor got a serious look on her face. "There's a reason I haven't told you what I do for a living, Burt. I wanted to keep that private until you got to know me. I am afraid that it might lower your opinion of me."

"I don't think that's likely, Taylor," I said. "Unless you sell heroin to school kids, I'm pretty sure my opinion of you isn't going to change."

"I guess we'll see," Taylor said. "Burt, I do a lot of things for a living. But it is all in the field of erotic entertainment, and I make most of my income dancing at Diamonds."

Diamonds. I am not an expert, but I've heard that Diamonds is the most upscale strip club in Miami. I'm not sure if the term "strip club" is politically correct. They usually call those businesses something like "Gentlemen's Clubs" or "Cabarets." I do know that some of them are very blue collar places with dancers who look like the girl next door. Others - like Diamonds - have steep cover prices, expensive drinks, and girls who look like supermodels. It made sense that a woman as beautiful as Taylor would dance at the classiest club in the city in a city full of clubs.

"Taylor, my impression is that ladies who dance for a living work hard at their jobs. I respect hard work. Besides, it would be hypocritical for me to disapprove of businesses that I patronize myself. I don't go to the clubs often, but I've gone a few times, and I enjoyed myself. I thought it was pretty nice, sex-positive entertainment."

"I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that," she said. "Not everyone feels that way."

"Not everyone is smart enough to have opinions worth respecting," I said. "Have I ever told you about my theorem? I wrote a mathematical equation that explains a lot of human behavior. Would you like to hear it?"

Taylor smiled. "I have a feeling this is going to be good," she said.

"Judge for yourself. This is Burt Olsen's Theorem of Behavior. It goes like this: Fifty percent of people are in the dumb half."

It took a second, but then Taylor got it and laughed. "Of course. Exactly fifty percent. Very insightful, Burt. Bravo."

"Thank you. I believe it explains a great deal. In this case, I think we can see that the people who might find a reason to disapprove of what you do for a living probably fall in that lower half," I said.

"You should publish that equation somewhere," she said.

"Yes. Yes I should. Macroeconomics is full of equations like that. People think that economics is about money, but it's actually about human behavior - how people behave in financial circumstances. That's my contribution to the field of macroeconomics. Feel free to nominate me for the Nobel Prize. If I win, I'll split the award with you."

"Very generous. The next time I run into the king of Sweden, I'll put in a good word for you," Taylor said.

"I'm sure the king would be more influenced by you than a whole room full of stuffy old economists. But I digress. You said you do other things. If that's not private, I'd love to hear about it."

"It's the least private thing in the world, Burt," Taylor said. "I have some online enterprises. I'm working on being an influencer. I've got one platform where I sell cosmetics and dispense advice on how to use them. If you want to know the best way to apply eyeshadow, I'm your girl. I promote cookware and cooking utensils. I am on OnlyFans, where I have erotic content. My followers are mainly there to see erotic photographs of me, but some people like seeing my videos doing yoga poses nude.

"And I also give cooking lessons. I show people how to prepare meals that conform to the Keto diet. There are lots of people doing that, but I cook topless. My followers get to see me whip up things like egg white omelets while topless. There's a lot of full nudity in my area, but I always wear bikini bottoms when I cook. There's something about bottomless chefs that seems unappetizing to me."

I laughed. "If you say so. That's a lot, Taylor. How's all that online stuff going?"

"So far, pretty well. It takes a while to attract followers, but I've got enough of them to generate a decent supplemental income. Wish me luck."

"Good luck," I said.

"Burt, there's something I'd like you to think about," Taylor said. "I am constantly looking for new content to post online. If you approve, I wouldn't mind taking some pictures and videos of us sailing. I'd be naked, of course. It would give my followers something different. Think it over."

"I don't have to think it over. Go ahead," I said. "I think it's unfortunate that Jack's boat won't be ready for a while, but if you want to take pictures while we're sailing a monohull, that's fine with me."

"Thank you, Burt. That means a lot to me," Taylor said.

"Since we're on this topic, I should confess that there's something about me I haven't shared because I didn't want you to know about it."

"Ooooh. This sounds juicy," Taylor said.

"Not even slightly. Here's my deepest secret: I'm a little bit homeless."

Taylor looked at me blankly. "I don't understand how that is even possible. You either have a home or you don't. Are you crashing with friends or something?"

"No, I own the place where I sleep, but I don't think it's appropriate to call it a home," I said. I explained how I moved into my trailer when I got divorced. "I had figured I'd be in an apartment by now, but I've gotten used to living the life of a camper. And it saves me so much money I'm reluctant to stop."

"I have to admit, living rent-free in this part of Miami is a real achievement," she said.

"Thank you. I wish I could say I'm proud of myself. Now, please don't tell anybody. I'm pretty sure that what I'm doing is illegal. No one has complained because no one knows."

"Your secret is my secret," she said. "Are you going to invite me to see it?"

"Only if you want to," I said. "It's nothing to brag about."

Taylor shook her head. "Well, that is indeed interesting. If you don't have a problem with me being a stripper, I guess I can live with you being a little bit homeless."

We talked a bit about plans to go sailing again, and Taylor wondered how long it would be before we could sail the new catamaran. "How is Jack's boat coming? When are you going to be able to tell me if we're making this cruise?"

"Hell, Taylor. I don't know. There's visible progress from week to week. I've asked Jack when he expects to finish, and he can't give me a straight answer. It's not that he's being evasive - his brain literally doesn't work that way. I think it's one of the side effects of being a genius. He can do the impossible, but simple things are sometimes beyond his skillset.

"Honestly, there's a lot of work I have to do. I have to figure out how to finance this thing. That means I'm going to have to come up with a detailed list of expenses, and figure out where that money will come from. I'll need a small business loan, but I can swing that.

"And I haven't hired anyone to get started promoting the cruise online. I should have done that by now. There are lots of things I could post right now to drum up interest. Drawings of the boat. Pictures of Jack building it. Articles about the advantages of catamarans. This should all be online by now. I've just been so busy I've neglected it."

"Jack, if you need someone who's sophisticated about online communications, check out the naked lady right next to you. I know all about that stuff. My online work is first class. I could figure out a way to get you on multiple platforms in a hurry. And I'm pretty sure I could generate a significant buzz before you set sail."

Of course. Taylor would be perfect for that. I'd had no idea she was an online entrepreneur, but it made sense. "That sounds great, Taylor. Can you show me some of your work?"

She left the room and came back with a laptop. "How would you like to see a naked girl doing yoga? Or grilling salmon? Maybe you'd prefer professional nude photography? I've got video of me dancing at Diamonds. I'm very diversified," she said, smiling.

"Gee. That all sounds so good," I said. "Can I get the sampler platter?"

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Progress! The cruise is going to happen soon. But something happens in Chapter 7 that changes everything.