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[18+] “Zeke’s Blue Hole” by Televassi (part 1 of 2)

[18+] When the hyena Zeke asks his best friend from way back at university to join him on a diving liveaboard, the husky leaps at the chance.

Today’s story is the first of two parts of “Zeke's Blue Hole” by Televassi, whose work you can find in  In the Light of the Dawn and The Heavens Within Our Grasp anthologies from the Furry Historical Fiction Society. You can find more of their stories on their SoFurry page.

Read for you by Rob MacWolf — werewolf hitchhiker.

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https://thevoice.dog/episode/18-zekes-blue-hole-by-televassi-part-1-of-2

Transcript
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Today's story concerns adult subject matter for mature listeners.

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If that's not your cup of tea,

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or there are youngsters listening,

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please skip this one

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and come back for another story another time.

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You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.

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This is Rob MacWolf,

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your fellow traveler,

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and Today’s story is the first of two parts of “Zeke's

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Blue Hole” by Televassi,

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whose work you can find in

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In the Light of the Dawn

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and the upcoming The Heavens Within Our Grasp anthologies from the Furry Historical Fiction Society.

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You can find more of their stories on their SoFurry page.

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Please enjoy “Zeke’s Blue Hole”

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by Televassi, Part 1

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of 2 It happened early this morning.

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The sight was hypnotising,

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imprinted on my eyes. But it had nothing to do with diving. At least,

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directly. The cabin we shared on the ship was cramped,

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but at least it had a tiny en-suite.

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Still, the whole idea of a dive liveaboard isn't comfort;

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it's waking up at 6am, having a quick coffee as the sun rises over the lonely ocean,

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and then slipping into the water as the reef comes alive at dawn.

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The whole experience is as close to Cousteau as you can get these days -

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being alone on the reef,

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enjoying the magic of being alone in nature,

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sharing in its precious few, still pristine delights.

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Zeke was the one who got to try out diving.

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It was the thing

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that gave the hyena his enigmatic, laid back charm.

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He and the ocean mixed well together.

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I'd known him since our early twenties.

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We studied the same subject at the same university -

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marine biology. I remember

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swapping beers and dreams in our first week;

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a scrawny hyena and a lanky husky wishing to save the ocean.

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Unlike me, he always seemed at home

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on the waves, and more so underneath them.

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Diving just came naturally to him,

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and despite the clunky gear and

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chunky regulator stuffed in his muzzle,

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he moved with slow,

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suspended grace that filled me with admiration (and a little

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envy). But it was university, and no marks were given for being a great diver.

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Academic reality hit hard.

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Zeke dropped out at

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the end of his second year.

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I scraped by in my final year, adrift,

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trying to crew what was once our shared dream alone.

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By sheer stubbornness I finished

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with a 2.1 overall,

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but I didn't fare any better.

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The cold shower of reality washed over me as soon as I graduated,

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and all my efforts got my curl trapped behind a desk,

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pushing paper, feeling

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powerless and aimless, watching the best years of my life slip through my fingers.

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Zeke was the only one from

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uni who kept in touch.

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He told me he found work as a diving instructor and guide,

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living a nomadic existence crewing boats that darted between the tourist hotspots of the world.

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Sometimes it was months between messages,

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but he always had plenty to say, and more importantly, show.

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Pictures of all manner of aquatic delights added shades of tropical azure to my grey desk-job days;

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pictures of the hyena swimming with all the big ticket fauna:

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turtles, manta rays, sharks - you name it.

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And even though he rarely got a day off a month,

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they were still worth a thousand of mine.

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Lying on some lonely, white sand beach staring out at the sea,

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sipping a beer underneath the swaying palm trees...

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I wish I'd dropped out too.

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Then one day, close before my thirtieth birthday, the hyena gave me an offer

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out of the blue. Free spot on a liveaboard.

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Caribbean. Two weeks.

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Diving is mostly reefs, a handful of wrecks, but they're going to include the Blue Hole I discovered on a remote

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atoll. Want to come?

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My stars had aligned with his nomadic existence.

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Three days later

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I was on a bargain plane ticket, and twelve hours after boarding, I walked bare-pawed

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up the liveaboard's gangway,

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grinning like an idiot as I saw my best friend for the first time in years.

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Stars. I felt alive again.

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But the view that was imprinted on my mind,

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hanting me whenever I closed my eyes, wasn't anything to do with diving.

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Instead, it was the close up view I got of Zeke's

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perky blue asshole

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as I stumbled into the unlocked door. ***

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I thought it was empty.

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The opaque door was ajar and

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there was no sound of running water inside.

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The usual gentle lap of the ocean through the open porthole was

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overpowered by the hum of the engines.

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It was odd that they were on this early, but I thought nothing of it.

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I assumed the hyena had woken up earlier.

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It'd been a week of four dives a day,

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and unlike Zeke I wasn't so familiar with the routine.

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He woke early and sat on the top deck,

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pawing through some tattered

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second-hand paperback as the sun rose

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while I snored away in bed for an extra hour. By the

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time I woke, I could simply

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jump through the shower and gulp down a coffee fix before joining Zeke for the first dive before breakfast.

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Except this time, there he was.

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Plump rump spread wide.

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Nub tail lifted high.

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His blue hole quivering in the silence between us.

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Fuck. I got a full, potent breath of his scent -

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deep, masculine, a little musky with the tang of salt, yet still

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pleasantly earthy.

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While my nose processed his intimate scent,

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bypassing any questions my brain might have had by

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firing down some old, forgotten nerves, my eyes feasted on the detail.

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His tailhole was a sweet light blue.

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Cyan - that's what popped into my head.

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He made my mouth water a little -

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his ring glistened with small drops of water as they caught the soft morning light, and it

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clenched smoothly, each subtle wrinkle and crease quivering

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with sensual anticipation.

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His lifted, scrawny tail made it impossible to ignore,

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and the shapely, pert contours of his rump

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couldn't prevent my

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eyes running down his form.

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It was a full couple of seconds before we both

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processed what was happening,

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and a couple more still before our senses let us react.

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"Ah shit, sorry dude!"

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Zeke blushed, twisting his body - and tail -

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as if he could cover himself.

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Instead he only gave a side on view of his plump sheath,

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beyond subtle enough to let the mind wonder.

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"I didn't hear you over the engine!"

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I yelped, shielding my eyes with my paws rather than shutting the door.

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I wasn't thinking,

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of course. "I didn't think you were awake!" Zeke's

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paws fumbled as he tried to close the door

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and preserve his dignity.

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"You're usually not this late!"

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Somewhere between the excuses, we both found a way to shut the door.

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It didn't really matter.

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Every time I blinked,

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there his cute pucker was,

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flashing before my eyes like a subliminal delight.

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In reality it lasted just a second,

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but already the memory dilated,

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stretching out into seconds as if I almost wanted it.

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"I slept in this morning.

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They cancelled the first two dives today."

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"Why? I didn't hear that?"

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"The notice was posted up in the galley.

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galley." The hyena's words were muffled by the door and the hiss of the showerhead trickling to life.

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"Aren't you done in there?"

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I blurted out,

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the jolt from it all loosening my lips.

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Thank the Stars I didn't say more -

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from what I'd just seen, Zeke looked pretty done,

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given the drops of water running all the way down his smooth taint.

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"Five more minutes, sorry!"

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"Sorry," I repeated it back.

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What else could I say?

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"It's fine dude!" Zeke called from under the hose.

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"Bound to happen sometime in a small space like this."

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I think I mumbled something about going to grab coffee and there

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being no rush for him to finish up in there,

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but my memory was hazy.

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I threw on some clothes,

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wandered down the ship's narrow corridor, and climbed the ladder to the main deck,

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trying to figure out why

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the skin under my fur felt so hot.

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It was the Caribbean after all -

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even in summer, the mornings were still hot.

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Or... I found some time to focus

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sitting down in the galley, pouring a cup of filter coffee.

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I remembered to stop when I felt the hot liquid scald my pawpads,

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and sat down in one of the free nooks in the corner of the galley.

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Sure enough, there was the message on the notice board: first two dives cancelled

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while we sailed to Zeke's Blue Hole.

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Really? I remembered something the hyena had said,

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about the possibility of diving a blue hole,

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but he'd neglected to mention it was one

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he'd discovered. But concerns over his apparent modesty were pushed out of my head,

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my mind choosing to focus on another 'blue hole'

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I'd discovered. Pushing through the haze, I tried to

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process my reaction.

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Why had it taken so long for me to look away?

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I thought about my watering mouth.

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I hadn't thought of him before as anything other than a platonic friend.

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We'd never experimented at uni,

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or shown any hint of something more in our

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fragmentary conversation to date.

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I played through all the moments this week in our tiny cabin

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and found nothing unexpected. Maybe

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my reaction was just the awkwardness of getting face to face with Zeke's tailhole,

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but at the end of the day,

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everyone's got one.

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You're just being prudish.

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I took a comforting sip of coffee.

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The warm liquid soothed my throat, its hot tendrils worming through my chest,

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delivering the familiar buzz of caffeine to my receptive flesh.

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I looked out the window as I sipped away,

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the mirror flat sea gliding aside with comforting familiarity and repetition.

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Occasionally, the azure band of a coral reef would twist and turn out beyond our path,

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the blue waters melding into inviting shades of turquoise

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that sometimes seems not so dissimilar to-

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"Heya daydreamer!" Zeke quipped, paws thudding down onto the table.

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"Coffee's going cold, I got you a refill.

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refill." He pushed the spare cup over,

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along with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

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"Breakfast's going quick too."

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"I've already eaten,"

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I lied. Zeke sniffed, but the hyena didn't question it.

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"Suits me," he sighed,

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tipping the second plate onto his own with the unabashed grace of a natural scavenger.

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He ate like a hyena,

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shovelling the food away into his muzzle, a blessing that let me try to figure out

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my next words. Embarrassment gave us a sort of magnetism.

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It was hard to look at him, but equally hard to look away.

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Despite his shower, the coffee, and the food, his scent was strong.

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Now that I'd sampled

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it, I couldn't help but notice it linger in his natural aroma,

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a fine dusting sprinkled over his groomed, civilised veneer.

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I still managed to say nothing

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as he scraped the final flecks of egg from his plate into his hungry maw.

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It struck me odd that his tongue was just

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pink, rather than-

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"About earlier. Don't let it ruin the holiday." The yeen

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shrugged sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck while his eyes rolled back up to the ceiling.

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"I said it's fine."

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"Good," Zeke nodded.

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"It's just one of those things that's going to happen

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but you don't make a fuss about -

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like how on a long dive everyone pisses in their wetsuits."

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I raised an eyebrow and grunted.

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It came out a bit higher pitched than usual.

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Zeke's ears twitched in response, but he didn't

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question it. "Just

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lock the door next time,"

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I muttered, hoping to channel indifference.

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This time the words came out fine.

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We went on to make small talk about yesterday's dives and update our logbooks with the information from our dive computers.

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Neither of us mentioned the upcoming Blue Hole, even though it was something I've never done.

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"I'm going to grab a shower,"

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I announced, hoping to solve the question of what to do over the next couple of hours.

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"Cool. I'll be on deck putting together the briefing.

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I'me guiding the next dive."

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"Sounds good." I headed back down the stairs and towards our cabin.

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Door closed behind me,

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I quickly stripped down to my fur, and tossed my clothes onto my bed.

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My eyes lingered on the crumpled duvet covering Zeke's side.

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"It's just a mishap.

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Avoidable maybe, but not unrealistic

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when two guys find themselves sharing

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a small cabin," I paused, trying to reassure myself.

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"Yeah." Why was it then that when I stepped in the shower,

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I hesitated in locking the door -

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fantasizing instead of a cute yeen joining me?

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I tried to find some distraction by fiddling with the temperature - first with

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cold water, then hot.

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Even when I just stared up at the blank white ceiling, there was still this tingle in my sheath.

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But this time, alone and with the door safely bolted shut behind me,

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I closed my eyes and let his tantalising feeling blossom. ***

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I still felt flushed, even after I turned the warm shower off and towelled down my fur.

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It wasn't like the rustic accommodation needed AC though. The cabin was deep in the ship's bowels,

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my bed crammed against the hull.

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Even if there was no room for a stray fan, thousands of litres of water to my side

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served to keep things cool.

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I hopped out from the shower cubicle,

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claws scratching on the lacquered deck,

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and sprawled my limbs limply across my single bed.

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Sleep would soothe things,

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in that same way it lets you solve the thorniest of problems after some good shut-eye.

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I wedged myself in the nook between my mattress and the wall,

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focusing on the reflections of the sun in the waves and water as they shone through the porthole onto the opposite wall.

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As time went on, the swell of the ocean grew,

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the deep blue waves washing over the window entirely

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and plunging the room into a light blue

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hue. Sleep, unsurprisingly,

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refused to come. "I could

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do without this," I huffed, emptying my lungs.

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I didn't know what this exactly was.

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I'd never felt this way inclined

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before even for admittedly far more attractive guys.

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I tried not to dwell on the idea I was sizing guys up mentally,

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but I kept searching

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for examples that proved my current predicament wrong.

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At university there was that lithe fox -

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or more recently

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that caribou stud at work

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who's bulging thighs reduced just about any unflattering cut of jeans into the skinniest style.

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Neither of them held sway over me,

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so why should Zeke be any different?

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I shook my head and laughed, a little forced so it squeaked and

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sounded breathless in places,

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but there was something amusing about it all that clawed at my mind.

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"How the hell did he get a blue asshole?"

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I shook my head and this time laughed genuinely,

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finding a confidant in the swirling patterns of the wooden ceiling.

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"I mean, that's got to be a choice - but what

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kind of place does that?"

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Zeke was, after all, far more travelled than me.

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Perhaps he'd woken up like that after a particularly wild night out...

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And here I was thinking that bleaching your fur for a tattoo was the worst drinking could offer.

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I took a long, deep breath and smiled, shaky relief flooding through me.

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The more I thought about it, and spoke about it, the more it seemed to settle. "Zeke's

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always been a hot guy,"

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I admitted. I breathed in deep,

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holding my breath.

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"But he's not for me."

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I breathed out again.

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Then why did he save you a spot on this boat?

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Buried in the ashes, I felt a glowing ember.

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It tingled in the darkness of my stomach,

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flickering as I held my breath.

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It faltered as I breathed out,

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but then - and in - it grew.

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Things had only smouldered while the rational side of my brain papered over the cracks in the walls,

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and wrote over them with fancy words for denial.

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I took another deep breath, and there,

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as if an invisible feather

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tickled the quivering black tip of my snout -

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was something in the air that made me crave more still.

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Is it his... scent?

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I felt the skin under my fur flush at the thought.

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I sniffed about, trying to figure out where it might be coming from.

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The cabins, despite being submerged in a watertight hull, were surprisingly breezy

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- the ship having been built so that the fresh sea breeze could circulate beneath, and spare those below deck the worst

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days of stale scents could offer.

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It meant only one thing.

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Had he heard me?

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With speed and stealth I leapt off the bed and snapped the cabin door open,

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scanning the long, dark corridor beyond.

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I trembled in relief to see no one in sight, and most importantly,

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no fresh scent of his

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lingering in the corridor either.

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I closed the door behind me just as swiftly as I had opened it,

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sniffing loudly so I might divine the invisible currents lacing the air.

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His smell was coming from something near.

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Something new, but...

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discarded? I scanned the room but saw nothing,

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so I leaned down onto all fours,

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finding the tingle becoming more of a smouldering burn this low.

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He laced each breath with

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growing abundance,

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and it was not long until I found the source: a discarded pair

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of the underwear,

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crumpled under my bed.

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They must have gotten kicked under there this morning.

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I felt strangely transfixed

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as I crouched against my bed,

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holding that sensual memento of his presence. Even as my sheath started to swell, I was more comforted by the illusion of his presence, unperturbed by any questions that might have come from my growing arousal.

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It was easy in that silence, accented only by the gentle sway of the waves, to dismiss the embarrassment and nervousness of our earlier

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encounter.

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Each breath of him brought a new pulse to my sheath, a new

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inch of my cock sliding free.

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In this moment of privacy, I could distinguish the thrill that came with each warm wave of bliss over my loins.

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I wasn't just pent-up.

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This was new. Exciting.

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And a healthy dash of naughty.

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As I continued to stroke my cock and squeeze my knot,

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a thought pushed

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right to the forefront of my mind instantly.

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Huff it. My heart quickened,

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and the giddy feeling doubled in intensity.

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But the thought - and feeling of it -

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made every squeeze of my knot far too enjoyable to ignore,

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and the part of my brain that thought of anything other than my pleasure was too far away. His discarded

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underpants were in my paw,

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and soon they were stuffed against my muzzle.

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I breathed deep and hard -

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like his scent was precious, or as if this was my very last breath.

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Fucking Stars! His scent filled my lungs, dissolving my ability to think.

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He smelled amazing.

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I knew that even before I was

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conscious of that fact,

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before my hard dick throbbed and leaked thick drops of pre into

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my clenched paw. I kept going,

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savouring all the intimate things it told me about the hyena,

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while the drops of pre turned into a steady stream as I indulged in his exotic maleness.

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I was glad my mind was so far gone. It was

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bliss to surrender, to enjoy this newfound pleasure without question -

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to surrender to each lurid fantasy about his beautiful tailhole.

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This was a holiday,

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and holidays should always be for enjoyment!

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So, I kept exploring -

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stuffing my snout against the fabric and stealing another heady lungful, like I'd never be able to breathe again.

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While my senses delighted in the feeling of him,

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my knot was harder than it felt it had ever been.

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Each throb made my body tingle,

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washing my nerves with waves of delight,

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but the tides within me were no less diminished by distance.

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It felt like my balls churned desperately with the need to give him my seed.

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I kept edging for as long as possible, but I couldn't control the tide.

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Excitement melded with nerves and anxiety

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into a potent cocktail.

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I took one last ravenough breath,

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breathing in both the scents of his sheath, his balls, his hole. My paw took

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his underwear and wrapped my knot with his scent.

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I barely even needed to squeeze before the first spurt of thick cum erupted -

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and I kept going, shooting into his underwear,

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growling in need and desire as I added my scent to his,

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blurring that sensory boundary between us.

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Husky and hyena - together we smelled even better.

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I lost count of my spurts - my orgasm kept rolling over me with renewed vigour

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each time I thought it was over,

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until the final wave inevitably receeded.

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I leaned back against the frame of my bed

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and stared up at the ceiling.

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My mind was surprisingly clear,

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even as my sensitive knot twitched inside the pungent,

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creamy mess I'd made of Zeke's underwear.

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Strangely, I was untroubled

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by what had just come over me.

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It just felt right, natural,

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and loving. Perhaps it was some older part of me, beyond words and society, that was untroubled by it all.

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I was just glad of that small mercy -

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I didn't want to think about it.

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I didn't want to change. I didn't want to unpick everything I thought I knew about myself.

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A knock on the door brought me to full flight. "Hey buddy, you in there?" "Yeah, don't come in!" "No worries," Zeke laughed from behind the door. As if it was nothing. As if what had happened earlier was just so easy to brush off. As if the

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very sight of his tailhole hadn't upturned everything I thought I knew about myself. "I'm doing my dive briefing in ten minutes, you in?" "Give

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me

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a moment, I'll be up in five."

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"Sure thing buddy,

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see you there. This Blue Hole is going to be a mind-blowing dive!"

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I stared at the hyena's underwear

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in my paws, the thick, slick ropes of cum dripping over the fabric in the dim light.

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"I can believe that,"

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I mumbled. This was the first of two parts of ““Zeke’s

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Blue Hole” by Televassi,

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read for you by READER, with CALLSIGN. Tune in next time to find out how, never mind if, the husky can

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reconcile his new-found attraction with the life he’s lived

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since last he saw Zeke.

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As always, you can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

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or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

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Thank you for listening

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to The Voice of Dog.

About the Podcast

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The Voice of Dog
Furry stories to warm the ol' cockles, read by Rob MacWolf and guests. If you have a story that would suit the show, you can get in touch with @VoiceOfDog@meow.social on Mastodon, @voiceofdog.bsky.social on Blue Sky, or @Theodwulf on Telegram.

About your host

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Khaki