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Lush Summer's Adrenalin

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Devil's Advocate
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A little teaser from my latest story…

I chased the slowly ascending trail of bubbles around the leaning prow of the trawler. They were long, diagonal dashes of air, luminescent silver against the azure of the ocean from which they rose. Following the broken line to its source, my eyes fell once again on that perfect, heart-shaped ass flexing and undulating in the tight purple wetsuit as she finned along the hull.

It was a short wetsuit, thankfully, revealing plenty of creamy flesh on George’s slender thighs. She manoeuvred into a vertical hover alongside the wreck, and I drifted in beside her, bumping gently against her. Even beneath twenty-two metres of ocean, the smooth touch of her skin against my exposed forearm and calf felt lovely, the semi-weightlessness making her all the softer.

George playfully wacked me on the bicep, the tap sounding almost metallic under the water. I protested my innocence with an exaggerated shrug, but she was having none of it. Shaking her head in mock admonishment, she turned off the camera and tucked it into a pouch on her black buoyancy-control vest.

Finished with our survey of the shipwreck, I secured my underwater writing slate in one of my own orange pouches. The unworldly rip of Velcro broke through the periodic percolations of the breath fizzing from my regulator. There was something eerie about the soundscape of a dive: the roaring silence, the enveloping echoes, the closeness.

Not for the first time during the dive, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Knowing better than to ignore my sixth sense, I double-checked my equipment, paying particular attention to the depth and pressure gages, and my remaining air. Everything was as it should be. Then I scanned the endless blue around us in slow, sweeping arcs. It was probably verging on paranoia, but long bitter experience had taught me to trust those little feelings of dread.

George’s fine dark brows were furrowed behind her yellow-rimmed face mask as she studied me. She hadn’t put a lot of stock in my military diving experience from a previous life, and my anal checking and re-checking rituals had become a source of great amusement for her. No doubt the ribbing I would receive back on dry land would be merciless. Still, none of the other rangers responsible for patrolling the Batemans Marine Park could keep up with her underwater, or topside for that matter. Consequently, we had formed a tight partnership over the last three months.

Holding both my thumbs up to her, I indicated that everything was okay. She paused a moment, then checked her own gages before forming a circle with her thumb and forefinger, the other fingers extended to make the correct civilian ‘okay’ signal. I snorted a laugh, a short puff of bubbles hissing from my regulator. Despite the shit she would sling my way, George was still a professional. I knew she couldn’t help herself.

She took her regulator from her mouth and poked her tongue out at me. I gave her a wanking gesture in return, moving a loose fist back and forth near my crotch as she bit back into her mouthpiece. George’s hands went straight to her hips, complete with a head tilt. Short blasts of air betrayed her amusement with our mimed banter, but then she quickly refocussed us on the task of returning to the shore.

A quick flurry of hand signals, and then George gracefully spun in the water as I finned in on her left. The towering wreck stood behind us. In front, the bed of dark boulders, rock gullies and vegetation, linked by increasing patches of sand, meandered back towards the beach a few hundred metres inside Guerilla Bay.

She set off first, and I made to follow, lifting my knee to kick my fin. I glanced over at her. A thick line of glowing bubbles lifted off from around her face, drawing a curtain of air across my view of the ocean beyond.

I thought I saw something in the distance, just before it was obscured by her exhalation.

Time stood still.

It was the ice-cold chill that shot down my spine that first confirmed the danger. Even before I knew what it was, the flood of adrenalin prepared me to face the threat.

My heartrate quickened. My vision tunnelled. What sound there was dissipated until there was nothing but a high-pitched ringing in my ears.

The bubbles cleared, leaving a clear view of the deep blue ocean beyond the curved purple horizon of George’s ass.

The muted sunlight reflecting off the pectoral fins caught my attention first. Then my eyes focussed on the large illuminated area that ran all the way from its pointed nose up to its high dorsal fin. Its dark, menacing smile beneath was almost hypnotic. But it wasn’t until I made out the small black eyes on either side of its head, seemingly angled in an angry expression from my vantage point directly in front, that my brain finally processed the situation.

Shark.

What happens next is available at amazon.com.
My latest story is a racy little piece about what happens when someone cute from work invites you over to watch Netflix and Chill.
Active Ink Slinger
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An excellent story by an excellent writer!
Devil's Advocate
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On royal decree, I've been granted permission to post the whole story here on Lush at https://www.lushstories.com/stories/oral-sex/adrenalin.aspx

I'd very much love it if you'd give it a read and let me know what you thought.

And of course, I still highly recommend you picking up a copy of Lush Summer on Amazon if you haven't already. Some amazingly hot stories for sure. And even though some of them now might be posted on site, there's some others that you won't find anywere else. Well worth it.
My latest story is a racy little piece about what happens when someone cute from work invites you over to watch Netflix and Chill.