Rapture of the Deep

I noticed we had floated in a twirling sixty-nine lotus far away from the piling. The sandy bottom was very far off. That didn't seem right. We started to hit neutral buoyancy. The surface was very far above and the sandy bottom was almost beyond sight. I looked at the gauge. Somehow we had drifted out and then down to about 85 feet. I was feeling lightheaded from the nitrogen in my blood. I had thought it had just been the incredible sex, but could tell I was beginning to show signs of the narcs already. I looked into your eyes and then could see you smile behind your mouthpiece as you had righted yourself and wrapped your legs around my hips. I tried to point to the gauges, but you just smiled and started to grind against my crotch faster and faster.

I tried to get you to focus, but you started bucking your hips. It caused my hips to return your grind and soon my cock was fully erect again. I gave in to the rapture of the deep. My throbbing member was more engorged than it has ever been before due to the bubbling nitrogen in my blood. The massive erection shot upward into your gyrating lap and my cock quickly sliced into your slack, lubricated pussy. I began moaning loudly and pumping up inside you with reckless abandon. The hood of my penis throbs against your G-spot and you lock your legs around me to hold the angle and grind out a heart-stopping orgasm. I am breathing shallow rapid breaths as my body tenses up and I cum in a convulsive shudder. I am moaning deeply into my regulator, a large rush of bubbles rise from my reg. Warm cum sprays deep inside and against the walls of your pussy while you hold on for the ride. I now understood what you meant by saying that a hard-fuck induced orgasm underwater was the ultimate pleasure.

We are both in pure rapture, moaning loudly, gushing exhaust bubbles. My hands rubbing your floating breasts and tight clenching ass as you continue to ride out my cock's eruption. You are almost convulsing from narcosis and I am very fuzzy. I feel your orgasm subside, and finally our breathing slows. We are now at 95 feet. I begin to worry about air. You take my gauge and show me the 900 pound reading. You showed some concern, but were not alarmed. I am ready to crawl out of my wet suit in terror. There is no way that is enough at this depth. It is anyone's guess just how far we drifted from the pier. I take yours and excitedly show you that you only have 500 pounds left in your tanks! You grin as you reach behind your neck. You open the isolator tap and bring your second tank online. When they are balanced you are at over 2600 pounds. We buddy breathe during a slow ascent to conserve my air. At thirty and fifteen feet we make two long safety stops. Then we follow the surge inland and look for signs of the pilings.

At last we find a solid block of concrete with an iron ladder. We are down to very little air. You go up the ladder first. This doesn't seem right. I do not see any other pilings. You grab my hand and lead me up the ladder to the surface. We are on the warning beacon station for the pier. We still have a half mile swim ahead of us, but decide to rest for a while before making the arduous surface swim further in. We lean back against the radio shack and giggle. One thing leads to another, but that is yet another story...

To Be Continued...