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Final Fantasy 7. Tifa Lockhart: Journey to Midgar.	By : Nickamano Category: Final Fantasy VII > General Views: 7306 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy 7 is created and owned by Squaresoft, now Square-Enix. Nothing here is owned by me. It was created for entertainment purposes, and I am not profiting financially from the creation and online presentation of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
6. Preparations.

In between Tifa’s increasingly full-on, gruelling bouts of training and self-strengthening, Zangan started to take her for long exploratory walks through the forest.

As they chatted lightly and enjoyed the peace and beauty surrounding them, Zangan showed her wilderness-survival methods. How to make a fire without Materia, matches or flint and tinder. How to build a useable shelter. How to identify edible plants and fungi. How to avoid being attacked by some of the larger and nastier creatures in the area. How to deal with venoms and poisons, again, if you didn’t have the correct curative Materia or item.

Tifa was in the middle of a clarifying question, regarding items that could heal poisons, when Zangan abruptly stopped and whispered to her to be still and silent for a moment. Without insult, Tifa took him at his word as, with a nod of the head, he silently drew her along with him, her matching his movements. The two of them slipped into a low crouch, advancing with barely a sound, moving slowly and carefully through the undergrowth, taking care where they planted their feet.

And then, out of the blue Tifa became aware of the cause for the change in pace and increased caution. Down below them in a hollow was a low-lying clearing through which a small herd of Chocobo were walking, eating the ragged looking wild greens that grew vociferously in the deeper parts of the forest.

With a strong though gentle guiding arm, Zangan brought Tifa down into a low squat behind a moss-covered fallen trunk and they remained there on their knees and watched the large Yellow avian group pecking at the ground in search of an afternoon meal.

“Wild Chocobo, you don’t often see them in herds.” She whispered.
“True. It is quite rare.”
“Are they pecking at greens?”
“Hm, hmm. There are actually two kinds of greens, wood greens…” He whispered to her, nodding at the leafy vegetables in the clearing.
   “…Which are small and common in forests and easy to find, though not very nutritious. And then there are field greens. They grow in grass - fields, plains, those kinds of places. They are larger and much more nutritious but also rarer and harder to find.”
Tifa nodded, but remained staring in silence at the large, handsome birds. And then she started suddenly, barely withholding a gasp. One of the Chocobo adults stood out.
“It’s green!” Tifa gasped, barely maintaining her whisper.
“Yes. They’re very rare in the wild. There are actually numerous colours of Chocobo in racing circles, though they often use certain food-additives when the Chocobo is still a chick, to make permanent changes to their colouring.”

Zangan leaned up a little higher to get a better look, while he continued his explanation.
“But in the wild there are essentially four colours of Chocobo, though over the years I’ve heard rumours of a fifth…”
“…You have the common Yellow, obviously. Then the Green and Blue are the most common after the Yellow. And then there’s the super rare Black Chocobo. Here, have a better look. Go slow…”
Tifa inched herself upwards so she could see more clearly over the moss-blanketed trunk and looked at the particular avian sporting feathers of a pale emerald colour.
“Look at its legs.” Zangan whispered.
Tifa looked carefully and noticed immediately that its legs appeared much stronger, hardier and more well-muscled that normal Chocobo legs, he or she also had longer and thicker talons with a more pronounced arch to the elongated claws.
“The Green ones are known as Mountain Chocobo. They can literally ascend pretty much any peak and they’re sometimes used in helping rescue teams to find and bring down stranded climbers in bad weather. Green Chocobo are extremely tough and hardy birds.”
Zangan slid back down and put his back to the trunk. Tifa remained kneeling up and staring over the top of the mossy tree at the large, powerful-looking flightless bird.
“Blue Chocobo have huge webbed feet and slightly different kinds of feathers that can trap and create air pockets inside and between them, giving them superior buoyancy. They can more or less walk on water. Even run across it. The Black ones are hybrids of the Green and Blue and have the individual skills of both.”
“That’s amazing. I’ve never heard of any others than the normal Yellow ones… You said there’re rumours of another…?”
“It’s more of a myth really… Wait…” Zangan fell silent, frozen, listening.
Tifa looked back at him for a moment, keeping her own silence. However, she soon realised she could also hear something in the undergrowth, and she looked back across the clearing. Chocobo, both adults and young had stopped their activities and frozen, all heads and all eyes were transfixed by a certain area of the forest, off to Tifa’s left. Something was approaching unseen through the undergrowth. And then the large birds bolted, just as something huge, dappled green with white markings erupted out of the forest and burst into the clearing. Tifa stared in mute surprise.

It was known colloquially as a Grand Horn. She recognised them from her father’s old six volume Encyclopaedia-Bestialia. A large predatory carnivore, a hunter-beast.

It was bipedal and almost humanoid in form, short squat legs, huge elongated arms that reached the ground and were tipped by massive and wickedly curved claws with more claw-like growths covering the back of its hands and forearms. It also sported a compact yet hugely muscular body. Its small squat head was reptilian in appearance. It sported both beak and sharp shredding teeth. The beast’s head was flanked by two enormous horns that sprouted from the tops of his shoulders and jutted forward, with a little upper-curve at the tip. It was those two massive long horns that gave the Grand Horn its common name.

“That shouldn’t be here.” Zangan snapped, launching himself over the fallen tree that had concealed them.
“They aren’t usually forest dwellers...” He said running down the slope. “It must have chased some prey into the forest. C’mon Tifa, we have to stop it. It could tear through those Chocobo in seconds!”
They ran, dodging around trees and saplings and vaulting over undergrowth, bracken and brambles, bushes and saplings. They closed the distance between them and the clearing quickly. Meanwhile, the Grand Horn was throwing itself forward with a fury, bowling-over small trees and crushing bushes underfoot as it chased the Chocobo herd.
“Chocobo are really fast, can’t they just outrun it?” Tifa shouted.
“They’re only at their best in wide-open spaces, they don’t usually have the agility to make quick turns and dodge around trees as closely spaced as these ones, it’ll slow them down just enough that the Grand Horn will catch them up… Hurry!”

However, Tifa was already overtaking Zangan and he stared at her for a split second, marvelling at the power in the shapely bunched muscles of her thighs and calves, the perfect balance and near superhuman agility she was showing.

She kicked off the ground and leapt up onto a large rock them immediately launched herself into a flying side kick, which connected with the Grand Horn’s right shoulder. Zangan was simultaneously impressed with the technique and the power employed and disappointed with the choice of target, the beast’s shoulder was thickly muscled and powerful and not exactly a prime weak spot.

However, the power Tifa had employed not only killed her own forward momentum dead but also knocked the Grand Horn off its feet like a bowling pin. It hit the ground hard on its side and skidded, cutting a rut into the soft earth of the clearing. In the background there sounded an echoing ‘wark’ of numerous surprised and terrified Chocobo birds escaping into the depth of the forest. And Zangan watched Tifa, having kicked off from the Grand Horn’s shoulder as it had tumbled, flipped herself over in mid-air. She whipped herself feet-over-head until she was upright and then dropped like a stone, slamming like a bullet onto the side of the predator’s bulky knee joint. Zangan heard the dry crack of the joint splintering from ten paces away.

Tifa skipped backwards, landing light on her feet in her ready stance alongside Zangan. Her full attention was on the Grand Horn who, howling in guttural-bass agony, was trying to force itself to its feet, however its right leg was just flopping around listlessly at the knee joint, unable to take any weight at all. It howled in a rage, red eyes sweeping around the clearing blindly, seeming to have no clue of what to do or even what had happened. Its enraged howl was already turning into a terror- and pain-filled moan.

“Put it out of its misery, child.” Zangan muttered with a subdued breath.
“Yes master.” Tifa breathed.
Then she skipped forward, blurringly fast and waded in with a vicious punch-elbow-ridge hand combination that cleaved through one of the beasts’ shoulder horns, shattered the bone plate protecting its cervical vertebrae, and finally the ridge hand separated the beast’s spinal column from its brain stem. The whole triple strike technique took her less than a second to complete. And the Grand Horn was dead before her ridge hand had returned to her side.

She centred herself and then let out a long, slow breath to lower her heart rate and counteract the adrenaline spike. Zangan marvelled silently. It was perfect technique, perfect choice, perfect execution, perfect administration. Her expertise was flawless and she appeared every bit as powerful, agile and most importantly as careful as he had ever been. And he was almost certain she was faster. She, in many ways had grown to become his equal. Only his experience and a few of his most closely guarded techniques elevated him. Experience could not be taught of course, though he was no doubt certain that she was ready for his last few instructions.

They stood, looking down at the corpse of the beast. Tifa was shaking ever so slightly, her eyes glistening with tiny unshed tears.
“I feel happy that the Chocobo got away, but I feel bad for the Grand Horn.” She murmured.
“I understand. All I can say is, I don’t believe it would have given up, whatever brought it into the forest was driving it to distraction. Maybe it was affected by a Fury spell, or venom… It could have attacked the wrong prey and been infected.”
“I did see a red glow in its eyes.”
“You killed it quickly, and a quick death is all any of us can hope for.”
Tifa didn’t respond. Zangan gently put a hand on her elbow and led her a step forward until they stood over the Grand Horn.
“I’ll show you how we can use its meat, its skin and its claws... The rest, the forest can consume. Wolves, Gagighandi, even Flower Prongs can all get a good meal from him. Nothing will go to waste.”

Tifa nodded, but she seemed withdrawn and was almost silent for the rest of the afternoon.

That night Zangan introduced her to the martial technique called the Beat Rush. Seeing something new, a tricky challenge that had her having to tap into her aggression, seemed to draw Tifa out of her current melancholy. Much to Zangan’s relief. In this case, aggression, he told her, was essential to enable the speed necessary to effectively manage the fast and hard-hitting combination of punches and strikes.

It was an unusual technique, even somewhat erroneous. Because as it required a loss of temper, even self-control. Whereas in all other techniques, if not the overall mindset of the martial artist, required a maintenance of self-control, calmness and to remain devoid of anger. Otherwise a loss of control would invariably lead to a mistake. And a mistake could lead to allowing the opponent into your defence. However, the Beat Rush apparently required the exact opposite, to be used aggressively. When the user had been hit one too many times. When they have run out of patience or lost control of their temper. And was only meant to be used as a last resort. Partly, because of the apparent fallacy of the technique’s use, it was not something most practitioners could grasp or even accomplish.

Tifa had already changed into her soft, white sleepwear, the shorts and bell-sleeved crossover top, but it was adequate attire for training. It took barely an hour for the teenager to absorb, and then grow proficient in the Beat Rush technique. Zangan surreptitiously shook his head, feeling thoroughly impressed, yet all the while knowing he should have expected nothing less from her. Within a week, he surmised wryly, she would have it perfected. He smiled to himself, feeling a kind of ironic-reverence for his greatest student.

“I shouldn’t tell you this but even Piran over in Midgar’s slums was unable to pick that up after five years… You have surpassed all my other students, Tifa.”

He voiced the honest compliment as they re-entered the cabin, following the hour and more of hard, exhaustive training. And a quick, back-to-back ice-cold bathe in the stream outside.

“Who is Piran? Another one of your students?” Tifa asked, side-stepping the embarrassment of the compliment.
“Yes… Which, erm… Actually, brings up something I’ve been meaning to discuss.”
“I think I know what you’re going to say - You feel you need to leave. You have lots of other students all over all four continents and you’ve been neglecting them far too long…?”
“That is pretty much the gist of it.” He replied, apologetically.

Tifa noticed then that he was already wearing his usual travelling clothes. The tan coloured, loose-fitting, softened-hide trousers and the soft leather tooled-waistcoat, with its lightly armoured external layering. It was an outfit she knew so well that she always found it strange to see him in anything else. All he needed was his travelling cloak and his hardy boots and gloves and he would be the exact Zangan she had grown up with. Afterall, he had been training her in martial arts since the age of three. She wondered if it had been some kind of subconscious decision-making that had influenced him put on those particular clothes.

“How long do you plan to be gone for?” She asked with a heavy heart.
“I don’t really know… No less than six months. I don’t want to leave you alone, but my other students…”
“It’s fine. I’ve had a feeling this might happen. Don’t worry about me. You have responsibilities.”
“Of course, you’re welcome to stay on here. This can even be a permanent home for you, if you like. I’ve never stayed here too long myself…”
“I haven’t really thought much about my future, Zangan. I suppose the world’s my oyster now. I’ll think it over while you’re gone and we can discuss the future when you come back.”
“I’ll promise to be back by New Year. How’s that.”
Tifa nodded her acceptance and threw him a warm smile, though it was a little forced.
Of course, she made a safe assumption that Zangan meant the traditional Gaian calendar New Year of November the first. Shin-Ra had brought out their own calendar, intending to replace the Gaian and forcing their own vision of the future on everyone. Part of the Shin-Ra calendar dictated that the new New Year would now be on January the first, although to plenty of people outside of the Midgar continent, the traditional calendar still remained the de facto.

“Okay… I’ll help you pack in the morning. But for tonight, you’re all mine. We’ll have a celebration. I’ll bake us a pie from those cherries we collected. You can play some music.” She gushed, forcing herself into a positive frame of mind.
“I have some spirit-mead around here too. I think you’re old enough to partake.”
“I could pull a few other bits and pieces together we could have a cocktail party. I’ve been raiding your books and have some great ideas I’d love to try out.”
   “Okay.” Zangan said, with a mixture of a grin and a frown.
Tifa laughed at his mashup expression of bewilderment and acceptance.
“Don’t worry master, I won’t poison you. You’ll like them I promise!”
“I trust you, child. Shall I wash the cherries we picked?”
“Please, I’ll make a start on the pastry. This is going to be fun!”

It was fun, the pie was as about as delicious as anything either of them had tasted before and they polished off the whole thing within fifteen minutes. Then, giggling incessantly they started to run around the inside of the cabin. Trying to burn off the calories that had been consumed until starting to feel sick, they tumbled onto the bed in fits of gulping laughter. The spirit-mead came out soon afterward, which was as strong as it was sweet and delicious.
Tifa was surprised by Zangan's youthful vitality, even more so once he had imbued a couple of glasses of spirit-mead. It was all relative of course but he seemed exuberant and fun and happy to go along with whatever she felt like, without any of the stuffiness or reluctance that usually came with mature people. It was refreshing and it almost made him seem close to her own age or at least made it easier to forget that there was an age difference.

There was an interesting hour of Tifa assembling a number of spirit-mead based cocktails. All unnamed and all her own design, with Zangan and herself testing and assessing each one. After the first hour they were thoroughly tipsy and Tifa had five winning recipes, that she made sure to jot down in case she got too drunk and completely forgot how to make them.

Having exhausted all the additional ingredients, they went back to the remaining jars of spirit-mead and sat at the table drinking and talking. They drank while telling each other stories.

Zangan told her of a time when he and his brother, even younger than Tifa was now, had sneaked a bottle of something green and immensely strong from their father and drank so much that they both required medical assistance afterwards. It was a life-lesson he had taken to heart. With the exception of training, everything in moderation, at least up until now. Tifa shared some of the silly things she and her mainly male entourage used to get up to in and around Nibelheim, which though helped by the alcohol, weren’t as funny on retelling as she remembered. However, telling stories of the haunted mansion behind the village square had brought the most laughter. The kids daring each other to get closer and closer and the following year to climb all the way into the off-limits Shin-Ra building, through a broken-latched sash window on the ground floor.

Tifa, incidentally, realised that it had been herself and Cloud who had been the bravest of that gang, spending a number of hours in the mansion, even venturing up the stairs and discovering the mouldy old greenhouse, and the big combination safe in the next room. It had also been one of the few times that Cloud had been part of their little group. Dan had been there too and had pushed himself to enter the house, though when she and Cloud had braved the grand staircase, he had scarpered back outside. Though up until that point he had essentially like always, been like a little puppy, following Tifa around and constantly trying to impress her.

After the stories had dried up, Tifa offered to introduce Zangan to a drinking game she had heard about from patrons of the ‘London Inn’. Which went down a storm, emptied another jug of the sweet flavoured brew and had them creased up in fits of laughter.

It wasn’t much later before they were down on the floor in front of the stove-fire, with most of the pillows and blankets drawn around them, like some kind of infants’ play-den. They drank and chatted in a slightly more subdued mood, while watching the heart-warming beauty-dance of the roaring wood fire.

Zangan, his mouth loosened as much as Tifa’s, had asked her about her choice of always wearing skirts and of their miniscule length.

“I like the freedom of movement. High-kicks and split-kicks aren’t a problem in a miniskirt. Dresses snag, you can step on them and end up, whaapp! Flat on your face. While shorts dig into places they shouldn’t, and trousers can constrict movement.”
“Tight ones, certainly. That’s why I keep mine baggy and tucked into my boots… Flashing your underwear doesn’t bother you?”
“Generally…” Tifa laughed, barely in control. “…The people that get to see my underwear end up laid out right afterwards…”
She paused, seeing a problem, a double entendre could be made of that. And she burst into fits of tear-laden laughter, before finally managing to correct herself.
“I mean laid out, seeing stars… with a lump… On the head.”
Though the use of the word ‘lump’ instigated a hiccoughing snigger or two.
There was a moment of silence while they both stared at the dancing flames, basking in the waves of heat. The two of them embraced by a halo of firelight, while all around them the rest of the cabin disappeared into complete blackness.

Tifa turned her head slightly and looked at Zangan, the firelight sparking little highlights on his tanned and surprisingly youthful looking skin. The silvery glimmer at the brow-peak of his tied-back pony tail. His full, cherubic lips, that were partly concealed by his moustache which had its own fiery highlights. And so did the edges of his combed beard. His big, kind eyes glinted more than anything. She looked into those eyes, unfocussed and reflecting the constantly shifting flames. There were lovely flecks of deep gold in amongst the brown of the irises. Those eyes, so wise and expressive and kind and patient. Just amazing.

“I love you, Zangan.” She whispered.
She half hoped he wouldn’t hear her, and half dreaded how he would respond.

He turned to her slowly and gave her his smile. However, it was his eyes that told her everything she wanted to know. She saw the love there that she felt, and knew then that he felt it too. She felt her heart melting and she leaned over toward him.

Zangan, his eyes misted by mead, his cheeks flushed, edges of his mouth up-turned, leaned in toward her as well. And both smiling with equal parts romantic joy and sexual excitement, they met in the middle.

Their lips came together in a chaste moment of searching, probing, touching. And then another and another. Not really expecting to, Tifa found herself enjoying the little tickle of his facial hair in combination with the lovely softness of his full lips. She let out a little breathy moan, enamoured by the simple the touch of him, the taste of honey on his lips. And her arms came up around him, one stroking down the side of his face. Her other hand slid around the side of his body, feeling the warm, smooth leather of his waistcoat. At the same time, already synchronised, she felt his big, powerful arms coming around to embrace her and as one their lips parted together.

Tifa slid immediately forward with her tongue, smiling even as she her lips crushed against Zangan’s with her increased eroticism. A deep breathy moan escaped from between his honey-sweet lips. She dipped her tongue into his mouth and found his own, probing and caressing hers at once. Two like-minded organs, flicking and stroking in a mutually erotic dance. They moaned together, pressing and suctioning each other’s lips, working their lips together, kissing more and more deeply. Mutual passions increasing in a way that felt exponential. Their tongues frolicked, dancing from one’s mouth to the other’s. they went back and forth, probing hot, damp orifices.

As their kisses grew ever deeper and more passionate, their hands started to move more freely. Tifa writhed within Zangan’s wide encircling arms, thick with muscle, strong and supportive, relaxing, safe. In every way indicative of this man she so wanted. At the same time, her own arms encircled his broad, hard body. She wanted those behemoth-scale muscles naked, to feel their hardness pressing against her. She wanted to feel that strength, that power against her soft, young flesh.

She squeezed his bare arms, the hefty biceps, up to the boulder-like shoulders, down along the corded forearms. His flesh was hard as stone yet invitingly warm and sweetly silky-smooth. However, it wasn’t enough for her. She needed his chest bared too, his abdominals. All of him.

Remembering past glimpses of how the sleeveless leather garment was fastened, Tifa started feeling around along the right side of his ribs. She found the lacings and buttons under a hardened-leather flap. Working blindly with deft fingers on the buttons and lacings, she started to loosen the waistcoat. At the same time, her other hand stroked up and down his other arm, caressed a subtle path down, around his slender corded waist, and then further down to one thickly bulging thigh. She started to stroke there, knowing exactly what she was doing, caressing up and down the top of his thigh and almost at once found the hard bulge, tenting up the loose soft-hide of his trouser crotch. It was a solid bar, as hard as the other muscles of his body and bulging with the same coiled power but even through the fabric it felt twice as hot. Tifa felt an excited, nervous quivering in her stomach at the feel of the hard meat, knowing what it was and what it represented. And the quivering was a hundred times more intense than she had ever felt it before. There was a barely controllable urge to encircle that pulsing ridge of hardness in her hands, to feel it, assess its length and girth, its heat and hardness.

Her increasingly intimate touches seemed to unlock Zangan’s previously hesitant restraint, as though her rubbing his cock gave him permission for the kisses and hugs to go further, to become particularly sexual. So, of course, his hands at once shifted around to her front, leaving behind her lithe and intricately muscled back. The fingertips of his left hand traced the curve of her ribs until he found the intimate heart-stopping softness of one eye-popping breast. And he cupped the full, gelatinous orb through her sleepwear top, hefting her flawless breast and then squeezing it gently.

So, he was a normal, red blooded and virile man after all, Tifa found herself thinking with relief and increasing excitement. This was really going to happen, what she wanted. He was going to give it to her. And a long guttural groan of intense pleasure slipped out from deep in her throat as the man she wanted finally started to prove to her that he did indeed feel lust for her and wanted her too.

Zangan slid his lightly caressing palm from the undercurve around to the outer slope of her breast. Then he followed his touch around with splayed fingertips, trying to get as much of his hand in contact with the perfect orb as he could. On his journey he found her desire-stiffened nipple poking against the thin fabric of her wrap-around top. It was firm and warm and tenting out the material just like his own desire-fuelled cock was. His other hand came around and cupped her other breast through the garment. And he was having the time of his life; filling his palms with their warmth and sultry weight, cupping, hefting and squeezing gently. It was almost a sweet torture for Tifa, who just wanted him to mash them, to unleash his passion all over her powerful, perky little body.

Their deep, passion-fuelled kisses finally parted company and the two lovers drew back a few inches, just enough to be able to look into each other’s eyes, to see the mutual lust. Saliva-slick lips parted with panting lust and mutual desire, smiling with happiness and excitement, each mirroring the other’s wanton passion.

Zangan continued to fill his spread-wide palms with Tifa’s awe-inspiring breasts. There was more than enough soft, pliant flesh for him to enjoy, and the burning lust was beginning to overtake his caring nature. The horn-dog coming out and beginning to counter his kindness as well as his uncertainty. It was just what Tifa wanted, what she needed from him. She needed his passion, hot and rampant, complimenting her own.

However, she interrupted his momentary progression herself by opening up his waistcoat. The next step, essential and not to be delayed. Even if it did mean him releasing his grasp of her breasts for a moment, it was an essential part of the removal of that leather waistcoat. Which for Tifa was the obstacle to the muscular lusty delights beneath it. Unfortunately, it also meant Tifa having to use both hands. And so, laughing at the responding moans of disappointment that came from both of them, she forced herself to draw her small hand from his granite-hard erection so she could pull the waistcoat over his head. The leather waistcoat got hurriedly ejected, tossed to the floor into the all-consuming darkness beyond the halo of firelight, not to be thought about until morning.

Once his body was exposed for her delight, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat that glowed mouth-wateringly in the firelight, Tifa couldn’t resist getting her hands on his broad pectorals, the clusters of bulging muscles beneath, his bulging abdominals. And then down to the waistband of his trousers. Her tongue actually slipped out from between her lips, as her hands caressed the hard, sculpted muscles of his amazing body, expressing her hunger for his staggering muscular power. And the promise it offered.

As for Zangan, who was apparently happy to let her do whatever she wished with his body, he appeared to have become completely obsessed with Tifa’s prodigious young breasts.

It was only right. Tifa knew that, from both the male sexual perspective and a small degree of prior personal experience, that her breasts were indeed her most sexually alluring feature. She had been repeatedly told as much, and in no uncertain terms, by men and boys of all ages in her village. And if her father had ever found out he would have been outraged. Even though she also recognised that objectively, her legs were long and very shapely and her ass was taut and perfectly rounded and exquisitely firm, and her own toned abdominals were athletic and sensual. Though, ironically, no one seemed to notice how good the rest of her looked. It was her breasts that drew men’s eyes, arrested their attention and inflamed their lusts. And ironically, she was happy to confirm to herself that Zangan was no different. Just as red-blooded and virile and wanton in his desire for them, and for her.

He translated his desire physically, closing in on aggression, which was almost surprising for someone of such a calm and pleasant demeanour. And rather than going for the simple ties at the hips of her wrap-around top, he instead grabbed the crossed lapels where her bosom jutted the most and yanked the garment wide open, tearing the ties free. In response and reward, the abruptly exposed orbs quivered seductively, bouncing off each other with the firm and energetic motion of their unveiling, and eliciting a deep animal groan of visual pleasure from Zangan.

His eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he stared at them, drinking in their eminently gravity-defying, youthful perkiness.

Even though he must have examined them countless times while she had been ill. Tifa assumed that it must be the mead-fuelled lust and the overly sexual context that made his eye bulge. Plus, the reality and her unspoken permission that the two exquisitely voluptuous breasts were all his, to caress and play with to his heart’s content.

And Tifa wanted just that. She could feel how hard her nipples were, could imagine them without needing to look, ruddy pink. Crowning delectable puckered areolae and jutting stiffly forward, proudly high on her breasts. Her sweat making them glisten in the firelight. An erect, succulent pair of firm-yet-spongy nipples, essentially begging to be caressed, pinched, pulled. Sucked.

Which was exactly what Zangan did. With the passion of a ravenous hormonal teen, he pressed his whole face into the illicit softness of Tifa’s breasts, moaning and panting into her flesh. At first, he gorged himself on the exquisite, smooth texture and warmth of her perfect teenage bosom. However, all too soon the fiery tip of a stiff nipple, drilling into his cheek, diverted his attention and Zangan moved both hands around to cup their outer curves. And then he pressed her breasts firmly against his face before turning his head and seeking out a nipple and fastening his lips around it. He nuzzled it, inhaling the natural sweetness of her naked skin, while he pursed his lips around the stiff bud, pinching it gently.

He was half aware of Tifa’s own little panting moans while her hands continued to caress the bulging muscles of his back and sides. He opened his mouth wider around her nipple, filling his mouth with her flesh, trying to suck in as much of her breast as he could. Taking the whole nipple and areola inside, he anointed it with hot breath and saliva, while his tongue slaked, prodded and flicked away at her firm nipple, which had become engorged almost to the size of a sewing thimble.

He finally released her nipple and switched his focus to her other breast, cupping the large orb in both his hands and again, sucking its stiff nub into his mouth. He teased it a little before going all out with hard suction that soon had Tifa mewling and moaning and letting out little erotic whimpering noises. He laved the perky bud still more, washing and dabbing at the pliant stiffness with the textured surface of his tongue and then the firmer tip. All the while he revelled in the interaction between his sensitive and agile organ and her delicious and responsive erogenous zone. He worked the nipple with his tongue until he could feel her arching up against him, pressing her breasts more and more insistently against his face, her moans intensifying and frantic shivers of glorious pleasure cascading through her body.

Tifa interrupted her own imminent loss of control in a hurry. She wanted to climax with Zangan, of course she did, more than anything but it couldn’t be this quickly or just through having her nipples sucked. She was loving the sensations, it was definitely getting her there, which she was surprised about but it felt somehow cheap and too quick to really enjoy. Like a premature ejaculation or something. So, she cut him off in both of their primes by reaching quickly down to his crotch again and grabbing hold of the trouser-tenting shaft of his meat. And she grabbed it tight and held it firmly in an insistent fist through his trousers. The sudden, even unexpected contact had Zangan throwing his head back, his spine arching up, and he let out a guttural groan of pleasure.

Tifa took advantage of her momentary control over him and - keeping one hand tight on his erection, which felt thick, plenty more than her one hand could manage on its own - her other hand went for the drawstring fastenings of his trousers. She deftly untied the knot and then tugged the drawstrings loose.

Of course, going along with her wanton desire, Zangan lifted his hips and helped her strip off the loose-fitting trousers completely. The garment disappeared into the dark the same as his waistcoat. Zangan hurried himself into a kneeling position, reaching for Tifa this time, to take off her opened sleepwear top, which she hurriedly helped him shrug off and toss, as though it was on fire. Zangan wanted to take off her shorts immediately, however Tifa was too intent on his newly unveiled erection and the enticing view of his spread, thickly muscled thighs and calves, but mostly the cock.

Both her small and surprisingly delicate hands encircled his pulsating genitals and all thoughts of finishing off undressing Tifa fell away. Grasping his shaft firmly, she marvelled at the silky texture of his foreskin, as well as the bulging, corded veins and the thickly bunched muscle that formed the iron bar of his remarkably hot shaft.

Her other palm cupped his weighty testicles, eliciting more panting moans from Zangan, a reaction to her gentle though intimate touch. All he could do was kneel there, hands braced on the floorboards behind him, his jutting crotch thrusting toward Tifa, while basking in the wonderful caress of her gentle little hands, while staring across at her stunning young face and statuesque grown up body.

Enjoying being in control of Zangan and his pleasure centre, Tifa knew what she wanted to do next. She paused her palming caress of his big balls, smiling at his moment of panicked indignation as she let go but she put her palm to his chest and eased him backwards until, following her unspoken command, he was lying flat on his back across the supportive pillows and blankets on the floor. Tifa followed him down, shuffling and sliding herself backwards. Her large, pendulous young breasts bouncing and quivering with her erratic motions. And for Zangan, that erotic randomised quiver of her bosom was as hypnotic as it was tantalising, and he couldn’t take his eyes off them.

Tifa smiled again, she could hardly keep the smile from her lips. She watched his expression as she slid herself backwards, lowering herself until the under-curves of her breasts caressed his sweat-slick chiselled abdominals. She continued to slide backwards until his up-thrust erection emerged from her cleavage and bumped her gently under the chin.

Zangan’s emotive groan was music to her ears. He writhed under her, relishing the physical sensation of her soft, smooth breasts gently sandwiching his erection. As much as his view of where his cock was, it was also whose body was offering itself for his pleasure. It was a dual-sensory overload. Insurmountable beauty, both the view and touch.

Tifa went for it, resting on her elbows and pressing her breasts firmly together with her palms. She engulfed Zangan’s fat meat with her own. He sucked in an automatic, overwhelmed, wheezing-inhale at the sensory experience. And then, smiling still, the teenage girl dipped her head and licked at the swollen jutting underside of his crown. Zangan almost swooned.

She worked on his shaft from two fronts, mostly using her breasts - their combined sweat providing lubrication and removing all uncomfortable chafing, leaving behind the simple divine pleasure of immaculately soft and warm orbs slicking up and down the impressively hard and hot bar of his erection. She pressed her bosom tight around his shaft, the cock pulsing a fast drumbeat, emphasising his increasing pleasure. It was a rhythm that Tifa could feel through her flesh, and so close to her own racing heart.

Every once in a while, she would also drop her mouth over the emerging crown and slide her lips down over it, washing her tongue in fast circles while sucking to her heart’s content.

“Oh hell, girl. You carry on like that and I’m not gonna last!” He groaned.
It brought a throaty giggle from Tifa and unfortunately for Zangan she drew her mouth from his shaft. He bit back a mona of disappointment, wanting to experience his orgasm just as much as he wanted the sensations to continue, ad infinitum.

“Do you want me to stop?”
“Oh, hell no!” He groaned.
Tifa giggled again.

Inexplicably, she released her breasts at that moment. And then slid herself down a few inches until her head was directly above Zangan’s groin and then dropped her lips once again over the erection that was straining, gleaming beneath her. She sucked half of the shaft into her hot mouth while cupping and gently palming his testicles with one hand. She was inexperienced at giving oral sex, but knew enough to make it feel good.

Zangan let out a heightened gasp and arched up as half his cock disappeared between her angelic lips. He revelled in the feel of the suctioning ‘O’ of her mouth, her fast working tongue and her hot breath continually cascading over his achingly hard shaft. He just couldn’t believe this was happening. She was so amazing.

However, for Tifa, taking his shaft deep, right down to the shadow of her gag reflex a sudden discomfort reared its head, telling her this was as far as she could manage.

Zangan’s base desires were beginning to take over, he felt an aggression rising that he quickly fought back down, though it was unrepentant and rose back to the surface again. He found himself utterly unable to resist the need to thrust with his powerful hips. The reaction was purely animal, an ingrained millennial-old instinct to thrust an erection back and forth, and he felt unwilling and unable to stop himself.

Tifa reacted quickly, as his hips stabbed upwards, driving an extra couple of inches past her unprepared lips, the slick swollen crown bumped her uvula and made her gag. She quickly drew her head back until she was comfortable and got her other hand around the base of his shaft, keeping a tight control on how deep he could go as he continued to mindlessly thrust. The strength behind his pumping hips, purely instinctive and uncontrollable she realised, was slamming her lips harshly against the wide ring made by her encircling thumb and index finger, but she held on and bore it for Zangan’s sake.

Somehow, Zangan managed to recognise and then grasp his self-control again, once he realised how aggressive his hip thrusts had become. He saw that Tifa was struggling to accommodate him, and also how close he was to orgasm. So, he forced himself to come around to a difficult decision. Halting his thrusts, he sat up and took Tifa into his arms, their glistening eyes locking together, each reflecting the other’s mingled lust-love.

“Let’s make this a bit fairer, girl.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Take those off…” He pointed at her shorts.
“Sounds like fun!” She giggled and hurried to tug the skimpy, loose-fitting garment over her hips and thighs and off.

Tifa giggled as she was manhandled through a hundred-and-eighty-degree spin and then draw back to a horizontal angle. Her wondrously firm and toned thighs splayed apart on either side of Zangan’s head. Zangan dragged a couple of pillows over and punched them hurriedly under his head to lift his mouth in close to the delectable crux of Tifa’s now naked thighs. His hands closed on her perfect buttocks, and he momentarily gorged his sense of touch on their firm, smooth and blemish-less texture. The feel off her sweet ass diverted his attention, even as Tifa’s lips and hands engulfed his now upside-down erection again.

“Damn! This ass!” He grunted in shameless awe. “Amazing ass, girl.”

Her responding giggle sent immaculate shivers of sensual pleasure directly into Zangan’s erection and forced steel into an already iron-hard shaft.

He stared up at the neat heaven between her buttocks and the tops of her thighs, the puckered little dusky-pink star of her anus, framed by the frankly perfect inner curves of her taut round buttocks. Then that same dusky-pink flush danced downward to surround the pleasure-swollen and juice-slick lips of her flawless pussy. And the engorged enticing rosebud of her clitoris, half emerged from the smooth, taut hood that ensconced it.

Unable to hold back any longer, Zangan’s tight grip of her ass pulled her back a little further until his lips nuzzled hers and he started to kiss her, firstly following the heat of the dusky pink flush, keeping to her outer lips and the clean, fresh, though faintly sweat-scented aroma of her ass and the little sliver of sensitive skin between ass and pussy.

He enjoyed the responsive moans and quivers that came from the girl’s cock-filled mouth almost as much as the scent and taste of her. He savoured hints of the taste of her juices on his lips and tongue as he started to circle inwards. It was like nectar, honey sweet and fresh like water-fruit. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, he dived forward with his tongue and penetrated her vagina, scooping up tongue-full after tongue-full of her flowing honey and savouring it on his taste buds.

Tifa had a major head start on Zangan that forced him to work hard, to strain his tongue and numb his lips. Though he had two advantages, the first being experience. He knew his way around a pussy, and even though every woman was unique, he had a grounding that allowed him to quickly build up women’s pleasure centres. And though Tifa certainly had a degree of natural talent with cock, her inexperience reared its head now and then. And also, Zangan had the advantage of knowing how best to use his softened and well brushed beard to good effect. Licking in and around the teenage girl’s pussy, he used his jaw to stroke the tops of her inner thighs and the sensitive flesh covering her pubic bone with his beard, to tickle and tease her further. The softening and brushing removed the wiriness and gave the beard a more soft-brush texture, soft and smooth and gentle. More like a feather’s touch.

He took a moment, while flicking between her succulent lips and delving deep into her pussy, to extend his awareness down his own body to all the points where hers touched his. Her inner thighs, vice-strong and gripping the sides of his head, muffling his ears somewhat. They felt like warm steel, every bit as powerful and athletic as his own, yet leaner and of course devoid of hair. His hands were clenched onto her buttocks, taut and smoothly textured, hard, solid muscle beneath a thin layer of smoothing fat and then the smooth, though at this moment goose-bumped skin.

Further down he caught hints of her stomach and ribs against his broad chest but it was there and not, in time to her fast breaths and maybe a churning in her core brought on by, as he was assessing, a quickly building climax. And then there were the hot, gelatinous orbs of her pillowing breasts, delectably heavy against his abdominals.

All in all, it was an extremely erotic sensation, though nothing to the feel of her hands cupping his testicles and the lower half of his cock, while the rest was engulfed in the succulent wetness and heat of her sweet mouth. The hard, smooth suction of her lips, the waves of caressing warmth from her quickening breath and, possibly best of all, the rapid and multi-faceted caresses of her tongue; lapping, stabbing, flicking, stroking. Her tongue danced over every part of his swollen crown and then drawn-back foreskin that she could get to. She was also moaning and panting continuously and the guttural sounds cast amazing tremulous vibrations through his erection that gave him continual added thrills of physical pleasure.

The girl was really was going all out, and he could feel his sap rising like a Northern Continent geyser. Any minute she would have him going over the top, and he was already mere moments from the peak. Something about that made Zangan realise that he had to get Tifa there first. So, he drew his attention back to the fun up at this end of her, and lashed out with his tongue again, this time aiming for the southern tip of her.

Tifa’s moans intensified the moment he went after her clitoris, becoming little muffled almost-shrieks and he wondered if she was too sensitive for full-on clitoral caresses, but when he slipped his tongue down a little, plying her clit while keeping the flesh of the hood as a buffer, she squirmed and gave his thigh a little slap, so he returned to full on clitoris lashing, and her half-shrieks returned soon after.

Now it was just a race to the finish line and Zangan’s masculine pride made him determined to get her to come first. And hard. He wanted her to swoon with the pleasure of it, just as she was practically doing for him.

He focussed exclusively on her stiff little clitoris, working in long quick strokes. He used the sides of his tongue, almost as if he was sharpening a blade; left, right, back, forth, in long yet quick caresses. He could feel the increasing tremors zipping through her inner thighs and her legs were actually physically twitching. He shifted his tongue to use the front of its underside against her clit, lapping at her and then switching over to the tip of his tongue, flicking her tender bud then slicking long slower licks over the area from beneath her clit, collecting a little juice from her tunnel and then laving downwards with it.

Reaching the next level was actually incidental. As her sucking of his cock intensified, she was forcing herself deeper while trying to manage the gagging response. She drew her gripping hand downward, masturbating the lowest third of his shaft with two fingers and her thumb, while she gently squeezed and rolled his testicles in her other palm. And all the while she plunged her mouth up and down the upper half of his cock. She even bumped at the entrance to her throat a couple of times and each time a hot bath of her saliva cascaded over his erection, making him gasp at the sensation of each sudden hot bath. Of course, her ever-active tongue and warm caressing breaths, including the vibratory gagging reaction to her deeper attempts, all collided against his distended cock flesh and added to his all but peaking pleasure.

And it was incidentally what took Tifa over the edge. While Zangan’s talented tongue worked at her throbbing clitoris, her actions on his cock resulted in a series of deep, rumbling grunts and moans from him, which travelled straight into her vagina as intimate and colossally pleasurable vibrating caresses. Following a concentrated, intense and fast tongue lashing of her clit, he finished her off by puckering his lips around her fleshy hood and sucking gently on the little nerve cluster. And then a little harder and a little harder still.

That proved to be the pinnacle of what Tifa could stand and the blossoming climax struck her like a tidal wave. A hot force-wave of sensual heat and pure physical joy enveloped her. It swept outwards from her sexual core and exploding inside her like a bomb. It spread rapidly through her breasts, adding extra little explosions of pleasure inside her nipples and darting upwards like an electric current through her chest and up into her face which flushed a sudden rosy pink. The even current darted into her full lips, that she had already had to pull off Zangan’s pulsating granite-hard erection. As she squealed, arched and writhed under the intensity of the pleasure suffusing her entire body.

Somehow it was the girl’s sheer, intensely animated and noisy expression of sexual orgasm that took Zangan over the edge, that and her fist all but crushing the root of his slick cock and jerking him randomly this way and that, like a gear lever and sometimes up and down.

In automatic response he gave a deep, hoarse, groaning wheeze. And cursing colourfully, he roiled his hips, jerking and stabbing the air with his cock, even under the orgasmic vice-grip of his teenage lover. And then a great, thick burst of his cum erupted from his swollen crown, shooting a good two feet into the air, past Tifa’s face and then raining down onto her lithe, arched back.

Three more long ropes followed the first, though with Tifa’s own writhing gyrations, she couldn’t help but take at least one thick spray in her hair, and a second splashed her lower face and smeared her liberally under the chin.

Half recognising the event of Zangan’s huge gushing climax, Tifa slumped down full length on him and coffined his cum-pumping cock within the hot, sweaty softness of her overly generous breasts. Still grasped in one tight fist.

She lay there on top of him, quivering and jerking as her own orgasm continued, though eventually beginning to recede as a series of diminishing, slowing waves, downgraded to near-perfect joy. While beneath her, his hot liquid climax had dissipated as well into a leaky dribble that seeped out between her cum stained breasts.
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Final Fantasy 7. Tifa Lockhart: Journey to Midgar.