"I don't know about you, man, but I'm bushed. Ready to call it a day?"
"You can call it what you want to," Mike burst out. "I'm calling it GREAT! Thanks, buddy. Whatever kept Steve from showing up is OK by me."
"Well, we'd better get out of this gear and clean up. What say we head over to my place; it's only about six blocks from here. We can shower and turn our suits inside out. Then you can buy me that dinner you promised." Gary's day was made: they loaded the gear back into the trunk and Mike followed Gary to the apartment. "Don't wory about getting that stuff back into the store room; I can do that tomorrow. Let's get you out of that suit."
Mike had already figured out that drysuits don't really keep you dry. Sloshing in there with him was a quart of sweat; at least he'd been able to pee behind a bush at the beach thanks to that relief zipper. Gary broke the seal and began to slowly pull the shoulder zip across Mike's back. The whoosh of air that filled his nose was rich with man smells: sweat and other body odors and maybe a hint of pheromones. Did he smell that way, too? "Sit down. Let me pull the suit off." Mike complied. His erection was long since gone, thank God, 'cause his wet briefs clung to his body, outlining his not insignificant endowment. After what they'd shared, he could give a rats ass about modesty. Now the tables were turned: he stood behind Gary...maybe a little too long...before he unzipped him as well. He admired Gary's thighs, lean and muscular, as he let the sodden suit flop to the floor in a heap. Gary sat there...maybe a little too long as well...looking at Mike and then noticing a hint of motion as his crotch. That long-lost erection was back. He stood slowly, faced his friend, grabbed Mike's biceps and pulled The Guy toward him without any resistence. Mike's lips parted as Gary's mouth came full across his. Gary's tongue probed tentatively. Too much, too soo, he thought. Fuck! I'm going for it.
Mouths pressed close together, hands began to explore each other's body. Soon...not soon enough...Gary's bands had cupped Mike's hard ass and pulled him closer, their hardons separated by two pairs of briefs. For what seemed like days, but was really only five minutes or so, they stood that way. then Mike back off. "Whoa!" he said, pushing Gary just a little back. "Today's been one of the best day's of my life. I want you to know that. But this is going pretty fast and I want to make sure this is the right thing for both of us."
"OK. I know. And I'm sorry if this is happening too fast. You're one hot man and I don't want to screw this thing up. It's been a long time since...well, I think you know what I mean." He sat down on the couch. "Let's back off for a while and talk."
Mike chose the chair opposite, not so much to put space between them, but mostly because he could admire this hunk far better from that vantage point. "It's just," he began almost apologetically, "...that your gear turns me on as much as you do. I can't draw the line between them. Your body... All that rubber... And then those fucking full-face masks and the sound of us sucking air from the scuba tanks. Shit, man! It was a pretty hot scene this afternoon. My head's still swimming."
"I know. For me, every time's the first time." Gary could see this turn in their conversation had begun to arouse Mike again. "Sit tight," he said and disappeared into the bedroom. A minute later, Gary returned with a different full-face mask than the ones they'd been using at the beach and it was connected to a long black hose that dragged along behind it...presumably attached to some tank in the bedroom. Mike's heart began to pount again and his breathing became short as Gary stood behind him and slowly slipped the mask over his head, pushed the foam rubber seal against his face and tightened the spider straps. Forgetting to breathe...just like he'd done at the beach a few hours ago...he eventually pulled a long deep breath of cool stale air from the tank...wherever the hell it was. And instantly his hardon was back like never before. Was there something in this air besides oxygen and nitrogen, he wondered?
Gary moved in front of him, staring wordlessly at his buddy, then grabbed the hose and pulled Mike's tether into the bedroom. This time there was no hesitation; he willingly followed the man he had known since morning but who he trusted implicitly. There, beside the bed, he saw the source of his air: twin scuba tanks in a rack beside the bed and what seemd to be a twenty-five foot hose connected to this mask. Running his hands down Mike's sides, Gary felt his shorts being slid down. He stepped out of them as Gary stood to face him again. Some force passed between their eyes and Gary encouraged Mike to lie down on the bed. Comfortably on his back, legs spread slightly apart, he closed his eyes and let his mind soar. He was back on the bottom of the bay, pumping the water with a giant pair of fins, gliding effortlessly next to his dive buddy.
Before long Mike wondered what had become of Gary, only to shift his head slightly and see his dive instructor mount him, kneeling across Mike's legs so their cocks were just inches apart. Then he noticed that Gary was wearing a mask...not scuba...but a gas mask with one long single corregated hose, at least three feet of it, and a neoprene rubber sheath attached to the end. Gary applied some lubricant to Mike's erection, took a long deep breath, and slipped the sheath over Mike's cock. If it was hard before, it turned to steel now, as the neoprene warmed and the lubricant melted. Slowly, Gary slid the sheath forward until just Mike's head was nearly exposed; he felt the whoosh of air as Gary slowly inhaled, then slid the sheath down to the root. In and out, up and down, while Gary held his breath for waht seemed like five minutes at a time. Mike didn't know how he could do it so long. Guess that's what comes with underwater training.
Mike allowed his hands stroke Gary's legs. Gary's shorts were gone and Mike's hands soon found Gary's waiting fuck stick. With each thrust of the rubber sheath, Mike reciprocated and pumped the diver's rod. Before long the rhythm of stroking and breathing had fallen into a deep rich pulse, increasing until Mike knew he couldn't hold his ejaculation back. His legs stiffened, pushing his ass off the bed, taking Gary along for the ride. Waves of pleasure washed over him as massive shots of cum filled Gary's breathing tube. Mike's hand instinctively squeezed the base of Gary's shaft and streams of the diver's own cum shot across Mike's faceplate. Ripples of their shared experience continued for more than ten minutes, long after Gary had let himself fall across Mike. Their arms wrapped around each other. Masks still in place, each man drifted into a half sleep.
...the story continues...
While I'm working on this and future installments, you can also return to Part One of the story The Meeting, Part Two of the story The Dive, go back to the Mr.DiverBear Dream Date page or even farther back to
The Frogman's homepage. And thanks to Dan for writing to tell me that he enjoyed Part One.