The Floating Threesome

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 3 Burt's relationship with Celeste becomes more intimate.

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My friend Jack looked miserable. People withdrawing from cocaine addiction report that it feels like deep clinical depression, and that's how it looked to me. He managed to show up for work on time, but he never smiled, and he seemed to be dragging himself through the day. Jack was the kind of guy who loved his job, but I saw no love from him for weeks.

Declaring bankruptcy hurt his pride almost as much as facing a felony conviction. He earned a good salary, but his legal bills, and the cost of rehab, put him deep in the hole. Fortunately, I had done him a big favor by rescuing his Porsche and Rolex watches. After the bankruptcy was final, Jack sold all those things and had enough money to do the things that needed to get done.

Like me, Jack was homeless. I let him move into the camper with me, and I let him borrow my Corolla to drive to 12 step meetings and therapist appointments.

Since Jack had always loved working on boats, he focused as much attention as possible on his job. He was moving slower, but he made up for it by working longer hours. I often found him in the shop long after the store closed. Sometimes I'd see him staring off into space, and I wondered what he was thinking. I know that one thing that was on his mind was the danger of relapsing. His deal with the court hinged upon him turning in clean piss tests, and that seemed to help him resist the temptation to give up and snort some coke.

"I have a gift for you," I said one day, handing him a small wrapped package.

"Yeah? Really?" he said.

"Really. Open it," I said.

Inside was a back-up hard drive for his laptop. He had years of conceptual designs for various types of boats he hoped to build someday. He'd never bothered to back-up all that data, and I wanted to make sure he never lost any of it.

"Thanks, dude. I should have backed this up years ago."

"Yeah, you should have. If you could plug that thing in right now, it would make me feel better," I said.

Jack laughed, then plugged in the drive and began backing up his computer. He'd accumulated a lot of data over the years, from engineering drawings and cost estimates to mathematical equations about nautical issues I can't begin to understand. We knew it would take several minutes for the back-up to be complete.

"Why don't you start a new boat?" I asked. "You're going to be spending a lot of time in this shop over the next several months. I know how much you enjoy building boats."

Jack loved creating new types of boats. He was a very good designer, he knew it, and he liked producing boats that proved how good he was. One of his designs was very popular. He called it the

Sanderling

, naming the boat after a cute little shore bird that migrated widely, traveling from the Arctic to South America and even Australia. Jack's boat was tiny - only 14 feet long - but it traveled wicked fast and could go a long way in a day.

Jack designed the

Sanderling

when he was going through a catamaran phase. Catamarans are twin hull boats that resemble two canoes tied together. Catamarans have a lot of advantages, especially for less experienced sailors. They are so stable they almost never get swamped. They are easier to sail than a single-hull boat, and they are more comfortable because they don't tilt when you're on the water.

Jack included some innovative ideas when he built the

Sanderling

, but the most eye-catching part of the design was his decision to put the passengers in seats inside the hulls. Riding Jack's little boat was a lot like zipping around in sea kayaks, putting you close to the water. It was small and light, easy to launch, and so fast you could travel a lot of miles in a single afternoon. When you were finished, it was easy to get the

Sanderling

on a trailer and park it in your backyard.

We went together on the maiden voyage, and it was so much fun we were amazed. It was a very simple design, but part of what makes Jack a genius is that he's able to optimize all the different things that have to come together to make a boat good. The

Sanderling

is the finest small boat I've ever sailed.

It was so cute we put it on display in front of our store, and lots of people driving by decided they needed to stop and check it out. A surprising number of folks wanted to buy one, and we sold them at a nice profit. It became so popular that a writer from one of the sailing magazines came down to do an article about it, and Jack is so proud of what the guy wrote that he still has it pinned above his drafting table. The writer mentioned that the

Sanderling

was a great value, and he recognized immediately how Jack managed to make such a great boat for such a great price.

First of all, he built the structure from PVC pipe, which is the hard white plastic stuff used in everything from residential to industrial construction. Most boats are made of wood, which requires a lot of skill and fancy tools, and you have to paint it with multiple expensive coatings required to resist the sun and sea water . Jack built the

Sanderling

structure with a tablesaw and glue, and it was completely resistant to weathering.

He also used a technique seen in other boats, but he executed it extremely well. Jack built the hulls from very cheap materials. The skin was made of very thin plywood that was easy to bend into any shape you wanted. He made the seats from the same material. It was so thin it would break if you tried putting it in the water or sitting in it. Jack solved this by squirting the inside of the hulls with that spray foam used to insulate houses. The foam expanded to fill every space inside the hulls, and it stuck to everything, essentially gluing it together into one solid piece.

This made those hulls incredibly strong and light. He slapped on a coat of fiberglass and some marine paint, and the

Sanderling

was ready for heavy surf.

Are you getting tired of reading about boats yet? All you really have to understand is that Jack is a genius at creating boats that are extremely versatile while being affordable. As you know, a lot of boats are crazy expensive. The

Sanderling

was a cool, durable boat that people could afford. Jack built other boats over the years, but I'll skip the details since I realize not everyone cares about stuff involving boats.

One of the reasons I'm telling you about Jack's success with the

Sanderling

is that it got him thinking about building bigger catamarans. He thought he could make something special if he used the same techniques - specifically, spray foam and PVC structural members - but he wanted to make a boat that was seaworthy. Doing something like that is complicated, but Jack excels at making complicated things simple.

The first time I saw Jack smile after his arrest was the day he began building his big, new catamaran. He cleared a space in the back of the shop, ordered a delivery of the thinnest, cheapest plywood available, and got to work.

In the back of my mind, I knew that selling a big catamaran would be a harder task than selling the

Sanderling

. It would be cheaper than big boats in its class, but it would still cost a lot of money. The kind of people who buy big boats tend to be older, conservative consumers who are wary of things billed as new and innovative. I knew we'd need to come up with some effective way to promote the new boat. And if we didn't, the project would serve its real purpose - to inject some meaning into Jack's life at a time when he needed it.

My life was getting better. I got a membership at the YMCA and started working out regularly. I cut down on the booze and junk food. It took some time, but when I looked in the mirror I saw my muscle tone coming back and my pot belly going away. At the time I was thinking a lot about making myself more attractive to women, and I felt I was finally making progress.

Celeste seemed to think so. She liked to run her hands over my abs, which were increasingly well defined. She noticed that my clothes kept looking looser as time went by. "You need to buy some clothes that fit," she said repeatedly. But she had no complaints about my performance in the sack. When we started seeing each other, I felt so desperate to get some pussy that I acted like a teenage boy on prom night. I gradually calmed down a little, but my improved strength and endurance got Celeste's approval.

We never became a romantic couple - that was not something Celeste wanted - but we became more cordial and trusting as the weeks turned into months. Our relationship took a turn when Celeste asked me an unusual question.

"Bill, would you mind getting tested for STDs?"

"No, that would be fine," I said. I was sure I didn't have any nasty infections. The only person I'd had sex with for a full year was Celeste, who was very selective about who she fucked and who always insisted on using condoms. Apparently, she trusted me enough that she wanted a change.

"Bill, I ask this because I'd like it if we could stop using condoms," she said.

"Ok. That's a surprise," I said.

"Yeah. I know. But you say you aren't sleeping around, and I believe you. You've been such a nice lover that I feel like I can ask you to do something I haven't gotten to enjoy for a long time, and condoms would ruin it."

"You have my complete attention," I said.

She laughed. "I'm sure I do," Celeste said. "The only way to say this is to just say it. Bill, I used to get a lot of pleasure from anal sex. But I can't stand the way condoms feel when I do that. It's irritating. And the thing I enjoy most is feeling it when a man is filling me up with his cum. If you aren't into that, it's fine. But I'd love to experience that again. Does that sound perverted?"

"It doesn't sound perverted at all," I said. "Actually, I used to be involved with a woman who liked the very same thing." I told her about Tawny, who liked conventional sex, but who loved it when I came in her ass. "That's it! That's exactly it," Celeste said. "She sounds like a woman after my own heart. Bill, I'm glad to hear that you have experience doing the exact thing I want to do again."

"I don't think I'll need much training," I said. "As I recall, it's not complicated."

She laughed again. We both got tested for STDs the next week, and we both tested clean. No surprises there. It had been a long time since I'd experienced sex without condoms, and I expected it would be wonderful.

Celeste had a big smile on her face when I showed up at her apartment. As always, she wanted to get right into bed without wasting time on hugs or conversation. She wrapped one hand around my cock and said, "I'm going to like doing this without a condom."

"I second that motion," I said.

Before I could say anything else, Celeste took over. She began jacking my cock in a way that indicated she wanted me to get hard as soon as possible. She pushed me on to my back, straddled my body, and started to ride me cowgirl style. I hadn't touched her, and she was already very wet. She must have thought about this a lot before I even got to her apartment.

"Ohhhhhhhh . . ." she moaned. She rode up and down, back and forth, right and left, and around and around. I can't describe how good it felt to be inside her pussy instead of being inside a condom. I hoped we'd do this a lot more in the future.

Celeste went on, and on, and I began to see that she was getting tired. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and rolled her over on her back. She giggled the way she always does when I treat her a little bit rough. I took over the job of directing our sex, sliding all the way in and out of her warm, wet pussy.

It wasn't long before she climaxed. Without a condom, I could feel her pussy throbbing better. That sensation was so exciting I began to feel my own climax approaching. That wasn't acceptable. It would take a while for Celeste to get excited again. It was too soon to flip her over and fuck her ass. Tawny never had an orgasm when I fucked her ass, but I had no idea if Celeste could climax that way. The best chance of making her cum was to get her nice and aroused, then move my cock from her pussy to her ass. I was pretty sure she'd like it either way, but I've got a male ego as big as any guy's, and I hoped I could make her cum a second time.

That meant I had to delay my own orgasm. Somebody once told me that the best way to keep fucking was to think about baseball scores. I've never tried that. It may sound perverted, but the thing that works best for me is thinking about my grandmother. Since I am incapable of having any sexual feelings about my grandmother, picturing her in my mind's eye seems to slow me down.

Gradually, I could tell that Celeste was becoming excited again. If I kept up this way, I knew I could make her have a second orgasm. But the whole goal here was to fuck her ass, so I flipped her over on her side, got behind her in the spoon position, and pushed the head of my cock into her tiny little asshole.

Celeste went crazy. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" she said loudly. She twitched her ass in all directions, and it wasn't easy to keep my cock inside. I grabbed her by the hips and pushed in deeper. She was so tight, and she made little noises that made it seem I was hurting her. But she didn't tell me to stop, and I was ready to shove my cock all the way inside her.

By this time I needed to cum. Celeste's tight ass felt amazing, and she'd given my cock so much stimulation that I couldn't hold back any longer. I finally quit fighting it, and enjoyed the sensation of my cock throbbing over and over as I came and came.

I didn't know if Celeste was like Tawny, who came easily but not from anal sex. It turned out that anal sex made Celeste climax like a machine gun. She started to wail. The powerful muscles in her ass clamped down on me so hard my orgasm was pinched off in mid-squirt. That hurt - but in a good way. When her muscles relaxed I shoved my cock all the way up her ass, triggering another scream. I was pretty sure Celeste was enjoying herself, but it wasn't easy to tell.

She went limp, and so did I. My cock slipped wetly from her ass. Celeste was motionless for a long time. I reached around and caressed one of her breasts, hoping she was satisfied with my performance.

She was. Celeste turned around, looked me in the eyes, and did something she'd never done. She kissed me. Passionately. Then she did it again. And again. I was shocked. I hadn't kissed a woman in more than a year. I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed it.

"Bill, I just knew you could make me feel this way," she said, touching my cheek and smiling. "That felt better than I remember. Maybe it felt better than it ever did. Damn, my ass feels happy right now."

"I'm glad, Celeste," I said. "I enjoy spending time with you. I want to satisfy you."

"Oh, I'm satisfied all right," she said. "I hope we can do this again."

"Now?" I asked.

She laughed. "No, not now. In a couple of days. The next time you come over. Would that be all right?"

"It would be better than alright," I said. "This reminds me of how much I enjoyed doing this with a woman I used to know. It was even better with you."

"Bill, you know I don't have any patience for false compliments."

"Celeste, it's the simple truth. I enjoyed the woman who used to ask me to do that for her. But she could never cum from anal sex. You just had the kind of orgasm they measure on the Richter scale. Damn, woman, you were fine. That's a very talented ass you've got there."

She giggled again. "I hope so," Celeste said.

As always, Celeste sent me home without delay. If she'd have wanted to wait around for an hour or so, I sure I could have repeated our performance. But by this time we had a routine. I saw her every Monday and Wednesday after work; she spent every Tuesday and Sunday evening with some other fuck buddy she never discussed. The only thing I knew was that she always made the other guy wear a condom, and there was no anal sex allowed.

I fucked Celeste's ass on a regular basis after that night, but she never kissed me again.

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The lives of Burt and Jack are getting better. In Chapter 4, Burt has a brainstorm that leads to sex with a parade of beautiful women.