Kinky

Chapter 1: Playing Dress-up

No one knew about Squall’s plan of incestuous seduction save Rinoa and her role was a minor one, though more than that of an observer. There was not a soul that had met Mr. Leonhart that would have believed his actions that midday. In fact, even if someone had been in the room with a camera and both Squall and his father Laguna Loire had been wearing name badges, he or she would be convinced that someone had slipped hallucinogenic mushrooms into their last meal. Squall was a notorious grouch who only bothered to speak when he wanted something changed. He had saved the world from the evil Ultimecia, traveling through space and time to do so. He was supervising the overhaul of a new garden in Trabia and due to take over as headmaster within the month. It was absolutely incomprehensibly unlike Squall to bedeck himself in drag with the intention of luring his new-found father into bed.

Perhaps that was one reason why Squall was standing in front of his mirror now, checking with studious nature every aspect of himself in costume. Maybe all the expectations of his fellow SEEDs (the special task force of Garden), his superiors, and his friends had driven him to a desperate attempt to break stereotype. It is more than likely that a recent and meaningful conversation with Rinoa Heartilly, one of his closest companions, may have pulled the trigger. Whatever his reasons, he would cross-dress and he was determined to trick Laguna into sexual relations.

The mirror reflected an androgynous man with too sturdy of a build, but delicate facial features. His wig was long and black with a side part. Red beaded clips sparkled in his hair above his ears. They were a matching set to his earrings. He had pierced his right ear just for this event; he’d only had the one pierced before. They weren’t overly long since he didn’t want to draw attention away from his face. That was his mostly feminine quality since years as a soldier had hardened his body with tight sinews.

Squall didn’t have his makeup on yet, but just standing in the red dress that he would seduce Laguna with made him feel anxious. He would not allow even a flicker of doubt to flit across his mind. Squall Leonhart had more tenacity, more fortitude than that. He’d chosen the dress carefully, online at first and then when his search had produced nothing, in person with Rinoa acting as the shopper. His shoulders were not as broad as some of his male counterparts at Garden, but they were still a bit too hefty for anything revealing the shoulders. He found that this limitation subjected him to old ladies’ clothes with their embroidered jackets or sleeves with odd lengths.

Like many a teenage girl on her prom-dress hunt, he had known it the instant he had seen it. This was the dress. It had to be red. That was the color of the dress that Julia had worn the night that Laguna had failed to consummate his deepest desire. If Squall hadn’t traveled back in time through Laguna’s thoughts he would never have known about that night. He wouldn’t have seen the sparkle in Julia’s eyes while the spotlight shone on her. His father would never tell him about the unrequited love that he’d carried in his heart for a woman other than Squall’s mother, but he’d seen it. Squall had been there and somehow knew the impact that a woman like that could have upon a man. The years since then would most likely have only built her up in Laguna’s mind. The dress had to be red.

The solution to his shoulder problem turned out to be transparent sleeves. They were loose fitting, so the generous circumference of his arm wouldn’t be pronounced. There was a subtle sensuality to covered, but simultaneously revealed skin that Squall hope Laguna would find tempting. The front was low cut as he remembered Julia’s was and had the same dangerously high side slit. He ran a hand up the exposed leg and felt the black nylon that covered his skin. His body lightly shivered in response. It was amazing how curvy his legs looked with these heels on. He hadn’t gone too high; he wanted to look sultry, not whorish. The night that they’d come in the mail, he had practiced walking and found them aggravatingly impractical. Squall was all about functionality and these were not anything he would have found attractive, either for wearing or ogling.

Well, this was his dress rehearsal evening, so he would finally combine the dress with the makeup. Rinoa had walked him through it. He had been surprisingly unembarrassed as she explained it; he always was a good student. She was an elegant-looking woman and so he’d come to her for advice rather than just consulting the internet.

His eyes were incredible with makeup. He didn’t even need the eyelash curler that she’d lent him; they curled naturally. With intense concentration he defined his upper lids with liner and blended the eye shadow just as Rinoa had showed him. The mascara was the part where the awe came in, because his lashes were already dark and full. With the mascara, his lashes looked fake, like little rays shooting off his cold, blue eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to display his natural eye color. Julia’s eyes had been a deep brown and so Squall had sent away for colored contact lenses. Not that he would have been able to keep his eyes that way; they were far too distinctive.

For lipstick, Rinoa had suggested a red gloss. He appreciated its plumping effect since his lips were more on the thin side. She had found it difficult to get the lipliner right and he had to agree that it was tricky. His lips did not have as defined a shape as Rinoa’s, but then, that was what the liner was for.

He added touches and smudged places here and there, attempting to get his face as perfect as he would before his erotic mission.

When Squall was pleased with his makeup job, he left the medicine cabinet mirror in the bathroom to try out the full-sized one. What he saw startled and pleased him. He was beautiful. He wasn’t a perfect replica of a woman, but damned if he wasn’t close. His blue eyes sparkled mischievously back at him. Though he had been telling himself all along that he was totally confident in his ability to pull this off, there was a relief that poured into him. This would work.

Chapter 2: Invite Only

Squall was multi-tasking less efficiently than he wanted to be. He had last minute paperwork to fill out, final touches to add to the décor, and more staff to hire all in preparation for Garden’s grand opening. It should have been good to calm his jitters, but instead he was just doing a half-assed job as headmaster. All he could think about was the extravagant presidential luncheon.

In the trunk of his car parked not more than fifteen feet from Garden were all the items that he would need to transform himself into Laguna’s lady in red. It was a bit obscene really, having these things on school grounds, where kids would soon be romping and learning, training and sleeping.

He was instructing Zell about where to place the vending machines in the building. Zell thought that the Garden was ugly and though he was one of the few that would have said that to Squall, he couldn’t have been the only one to think so. The Garden looked more like a factory in some regards. Squall felt that it was perfect for him and took no offense to Zell’s potentially insulting opinion.

As soon as he set Zell up with his task, Squall strode back to his car, taking intentionally calm and measured strides. He did not want to appear eager even to himself. No one would have expected to see Squall bouncing gleefully across campus and he wasn’t going to start acting that way. So much of the way he carried himself was dictated by others’, not this afternoon.

The luncheon was a very formal one put on by the Esthar government of which Laguna was the elected head official. It was not Laguna’s idea. Most of Esthar’s government actions weren’t his idea since he was elected out of popularity more than ability. Laguna wasn’t a bad president or a bad person for that matter, but he didn’t actually utilize his power. He was content being a figurehead for the people of Esthar. It wasn’t very hard for those actually ruling the country to work through him. Laguna’s easily persuaded nature was what Squall was counting on.


Chapter 3: The Main Course

The luncheon was expensive-looking, no doubt it was quite costly, but the taxpayers wouldn’t have to know how much. It was a catered event held at Laguna’s own office building. There were bus boys shuffling to and fro placing steaming trays on high thread count cotton tablecloths. The expansive Estharian windows had been draped with long, sheer fabrics to create a more somber atmosphere. To add to ambience as well as lighting, long tapered candles made from granaldo wax burned in crystal holders.

Even with as fancy as the luncheon was, Squall was still overdressed. Like most governments, the Estharians had few females in high positions of political power. The few that Squall saw were wearing drab black or brown suits or suit-skirts. The muted colors were only going to make him shine brighter, which should have made him more confident, but Squall could not fight his nature. He hated being the center of attention. His stomach clenched as just by entering the dining hall (converted from four meeting rooms with sliding walls) he became the focus of many lecherous eyes.
Well, he only cared to have one set of eyes on him, the green Loire kind.

The security had permitted his admission as Squall Leonhart’s plus one invitee. It was reassuring that even with his name drifting in the air, the guards had not recognized him. From their interested look he’d known they’d taken him for a woman, for Headmaster Leonhart’s date. It was a tad strange for a lady to show up before her date, especially to such a dull, business-mingling event, but not so weird as to be logged in their memory.

Squall scanned the room carefully. Somewhere among the clusters of bureaucrats, business owners, and shareholders, was his intended prey. Seeing no sign, he moved further into the room creating a pocket of silence with his beauty. He tried to quell his discomfort at the stir his red dress was causing. He felt the fear but showed none of it, staying true to the soldier in his blood.

Laguna, as expected as president, was surrounded by the largest of conversation clusters. Squall was barely able to make him out through the crowd, but his ears spotted Laguna before his ears did.

“Well yes, I suppose so…” he heard Laguna say. The benign phrase, completely devoid of contact to Squall, tickled his skin with erotic anticipation. This whole thing up to now had been anticipation, had practically defined the word. Squall was finally here and Laguna would be his – for this afternoon anyway; he had no intention of failing.

Now that he was aware of his target’s location, Squall sauntered to one of the beverage tables. The catering service employee was only too happy to fix Squall something. He oozed enthusiasm more copiously that he did the vodka that he was pouring.

Squall decided to test his newfound femininity on the guy. When the bartender handed him the beverage, a Kamikaze light on the lime, Squall deliberately touched his hand. The server smiled and leaned forward. “You know, that is quite a dress.”

Squall knew better than to speak, for though he might be passing in looks, he still spoke very much like a man. Instead, he smiled and dipped his head down a bit as if embarrassed by the compliment. Rinoa would have fallen over with amazement if she had been able to see Squall’s implementation of her best coy maneuver. He had obviously done it well since the server was practically salivating at his perceived odds increase.

“So, uh, are you here with someone?” the server asked, scanning the room before looking back at Squall.

It pleased Squall that this man was actually wanting to pick him up. It powered his confidence. In response to the inquiry, Squall nodded, allowing a smile to come into his eyes.

The server smiled half-heartedly. “Pity,” he said.

Squall walked away with drink in hand. He’d practiced plenty in the heels over the past couple of weeks, so it was no challenge to walk in them. It was a whole other challenge though to get his hips to swish while doing it. He hadn’t thought to practice with a drink, but he felt that he was pulling it off nicely.

“Wow, check out those legs,” Laguna heard someone whisper (loudly) into his ear. He glanced about, not because he was a lecherous man, but out of curiosity; these events weren’t exactly for beauty queens.

It took him several moments to see the legs in question that vice chairman Nestry had pointed out. The only reason for this being the large amount of people obstructing his vision, since the bright red dress wasn’t what anyone could call inconspicuous.

Laguna’s breath caught at the sight of an image from his memory realized: a tall stretch of leg revealed by a parting of red dress. His eyes darted up, already hoping for the impossible, to the woman’s face. He only was able to view her for a second before someone stepped in the way, long enough to confirm that the dead had not risen, but shocked at the resemblance he saw there. She’d had long, black hair and dangerous red lips that were nursing a drink.

He stood up, his chair knocking against someone standing behind him. He apologized absent-mindedly; he was quite used to his own clumsiness. Nestry chuckled at Laguna’s urgency. “Play it cool Laguna. You are the president you know.” How could a dirty old coot like Nestry understand the effect that mysterious woman was having on his heart? His pulse raced as he excused his way through the group towards her.

Squall was reclining back against the side of one of the windows that made up the walls of the banquet room. The hanging purple fabric covered his shoulder. It was almost as if he was a bird on the window ledge, separated from the crowd by more than just glass, but an entire lifestyle.
He didn’t notice Laguna’s progress across the room at first. He had been expecting a longer wait. When he espied the president charging over with obvious purpose, Squall brought his glass higher, obstructing the lower half of his face. It almost made him smile just how predictable Laguna was. It was unbelievable that they were related sometimes. Everything Laguna felt showed in his face and actions. Squall tended to keep his hand closer to his chest, but then, it may well have been Laguna that was responsible for that trait. There was just no way to know if Squall’s stoicism was innate or brought about by his abandonment issues. Either way, Laguna’s personality was totally opposite his son’s.

Laguna advanced on the woman in the red dress with unselfconscious enthusiasm. She had seen him coming and before her glass had raised up, he’d seen a look of amusement on her face. It was true what Nestry had said. As president, Laguna had no trouble with the ladies. He’d just never found any that could hold a candle to his dear departed wife Raine, so he remained unattached.

When he was within introduction range of the mysterious woman, he stopped, feeling spontaneously uncertain. She watched him with amazing brown eyes that hovered over the rim of her light green drink. What could he say to her? ‘Hi, I couldn’t help but notice how much you resemble a woman that I used to be in love with?’ God, what an abominable pickup line.

Squall laughed on the inside over Laguna’s sudden halt. He was such an idiot, especially when it came to women. Still, part of this was made more fun because of that stupidity. So, he thought he’d help Laguna progress. He didn’t want Laguna to lose his nerve after all.

In his softest, most feminine voice (which still wasn’t all that convincing) he asked, “President Loire?” He extended a hand out, the one not holding his alcoholic face shield, and then pulled it back in a gesture of hospitality.

Laguna snapped out of his frozen moment. He neared the beautiful woman who knew who he was and the high position of power he held. He hoped that would help. “Oh yes, hi.” He inclined his head a bit in greeting. He felt slightly retarded as he tended to during times when it was important that he not. “I was just um, wondering about uh, the drink you’re having.”

As he had many times in the past, Squall felt like tapping his head against a nearby wall at something stupid Laguna had said. Instead, he smiled and let out a soft, insincere giggle. He lowered the glass a bit, watching Laguna for signs of recognition. When none were visible, he answered, “It’s… a secret.” He had to whisper so that his voice would not betray him and Laguna leaned in to her better.

As Laguna leaned in, he caught the scent of her perfume and his brain overloaded with olfactory reminiscence. Hyne help him; he knew that aroma. It was tied up with the scent of a Galbadian hotel bar and the sound of a voice like resounding crystal.

Squall saw the president’s eyes widen and his nostrils flare. So he did remember a fragrance twenty years past. Squall’s guess had proved correct, just like they all had so far. Still, there was much to do still and Squall had an unfinished school to get back to.

He turned to his right and slowly sauntered to the dining area’s exit. He knew Laguna would follow, even if he didn’t start right away. Squall set his glass down on a table before exiting the room. He felt more pairs of eyes on him than just Laguna’s as he swished through the open double doors.

There was a pair of guards posted further down the hall to Laguna’s private office. That was Squall’s intended destination. There was something gratifying about knowing that he could kill these two men with his bare hands thought he was quite a good deal more feminine in appearance. He wondered briefly if this was how Quistis or Selphie felt. That thought was more worrisome. Not that he would have to resort to violence; Laguna would allow him passage.

On cue, he heard a stomping behind him. No doubt Laguna had finally made up his mind to follow and ran to catch up. ‘So predictable,’ thought Squall annoyed by his father’s ineptitude.

“Hey, you just took off on me,” stated Laguna. He was flummoxed by her random exit. He’d hoped he hadn’t done anything to offend. Her back was to him, the gentleman in him tried not to notice how much of her backside he could see through her tight dress, and she was looking down the hallway towards his office. “That’s my office down there,” he said.

The woman in the red dress peered at him over her left shoulder. Her eyes were saying naughty things to him. When her head turned back down the hall, Laguna heard himself as, “You wanna see it?” He couldn’t help but feel that he was in over his head when she nodded and walked forward towards the waiting guards. With a huge gulp, he followed her.

The guards parted, standing with their backs to the walls. Squall imagined what they were thinking, seeing the president trailing licentiously behind a tarted up woman that he’d just met. What they were thinking was not entirely incorrect either, save for the ‘woman’ and ‘just met’ bits.

She stopped outside the door and Laguna hurriedly stepped in front of her to open it. “Uh, let me get that…” he muttered. Once the door was open he had his best view of her that he’d had so far. Her brown eyes looked at him intensely as she and her lovely scent floated by him. She was beautiful and reminded him so much of the woman he’d been thinking of so fondly. There was the red dress, the scent, the long black hair hanging unadorned, the deep brown eyes, and those red-stained lips. He hardened at his proximity to her and the effect she was having on him.

“This is where I see that everything is running smoothly in Esthar,” Laguna said. The drapes were drawn and the room was quite dark, so he scrambled for the light switch.

In an instant, her hand was covering his, stopping his search. “Don’t,” she whispered.

He faltered momentarily, dazed as she removed her hand in order to shut the door. ‘Wow, this girl is really forward,’ he thought. He was stunned, but not unappreciative of her aggressiveness. He remembered another woman who he’d thought bold to invite him to her hotel room. All he’d been able to do that night was jabber on, so bad his nerves were. There were no regrets he had that could rival that one, save maybe how his life had impacted his children. If he had it to do again, he would take her into his arms and man up, confess his love for her and show her a night of passion that they both deserved.

Squall had touched Laguna now, in this outfit. It was less climactic than it could have been, since all he was doing was stopping the lights from coming on, but more touches were coming. Still, Laguna was in his head again thinking of the woman of his dreams rather than focusing on the flesh and bone one (at least he thought) he had in front of him.

There was a simple way to get Laguna’s attention and a thrilling one. In his heels, Squall was pretty much the same height as his father, so all Squall had to do was lean in to kiss him. Here he felt a twinge of hesitation for he felt that this was certainly the point of no return, but Squall Leonhart, Headmaster of Trabia Garden, was no quitter. He slanted forward, tilted his head to the side, and gently placed his lips against Laguna’s.

If the first touch had seemed disappointing to Squall, all the expectations he had for this were renewed by the first kiss that he shared with Laguna. Many times in the past he had heard from others how much he looked like his father, the eyes, the brows...the lips. Did Laguna's lips feel like his own? There was no way to know that, but there was an amazing similarity in the way that they kissed.

Timidity left Laguna, natural libido overriding self-doubt and he pressed hard into the soft lips being offered. They were moist with lipstick that tasted faintly of berries. Her breath was still strongly scented by the alcohol, but it did not impede his tongue from traveling inside her mouth. The mingling of their tongues was deeply symbolic of other joining options that were flitting through his mind. He wrapped an arm around her thin waist and pulled her in tighter.

Squall blamed it on the alcohol that his head sped a bit as Laguna pulled him in tighter. He cursed his decision to order the drink at all when he stumbled a bit, the heels handicapping his balance as much as his overreaction to the eroticism. He'd imbibed in an amount of alcohol that couldn't have even made Selphie drunk, but his denial was as rigid as his penis. He intentionally had to pull his pelvis away from the man to keep his secret safe, but it was not what his hips wanted to do.

With intermixing little kisses and big kisses, Laguna enjoyed every bit of the woman's (Julia's) lips, mouth, and tongue. He ran his large hand down her hip until it met her dress's achingly high slit. How she had looked that night! That dress so tight and the amount of exposed leg enough to drive any soldier out of his Hyne-lovin' mind.

In his plan to bring recollections of Julia, Squall had succeeded only too well. It was no longer some strange woman met at a banquet that he was fondling. No, to his mind and his body it was her, the giant 'What If?' from his long ago past. His fingers glided underneath that slit, around to her backside, his gentlemanly behavior set aside for a moment. It was only after he grabbed the amazingly curved ass cheek, causing his erection to jump up as if it wasn't hard enough already, that his conscience shrieked at him.

"Wait...wait.." he panted and pulled his face away from the woman's. His hand unwillingly pulled away from her ass. He could almost hear the sound of his fingertips cursing vilely at him for doing such a thing. "I don't even know your name!"

At hearing the objection, Squall felt like clubbing the moronic older man over the head. Here he was, bending over backwards to provide an experience that Laguna had been craving for over twenty years and the man had to object to it! It was like he wanted to make this as difficult as possible for Squall. Not that he needed things to be easy. His life had been anything but easy, trained as a mercenary as soon as he was old enough to lift a gunblade; he was used to a challenge. It just amazed him that Laguna could be so damned stubborn about something that they both wanted.

With no intention of giving out his name, Squall drew in close to Laguna's neck and gave a test lick. It was just the two of them in the silent office so the gasp that the experimental tongue movement caused was easily heard. Squall bit down on his lip to keep from smiling, not usually a facial response that he had to keep under control. He knew the effect that the costume had on Laguna and he anticipated that to outweigh any reservations the Mayor had about fucking some kind of political groupie.

He was only trying to be a gentleman despite his raging hormones, but the woman didn't seem to have the same self-discipline that he was trying for. So when she licked Laguna's neck and he shuddered and sighed beneath her tongue, he felt that he was losing a battle. As a fighter, it was an easily identifiable, albeit rare, sensation. Would she let him leave this room with any respect and, more importantly, did he want her to?

Her hand rolled over his chest, continuing over his spare tire-less stomach, and between his legs. The noise Laguna made reminded him of the sound of a dog sitting in front of dangled meat. He gaped at her, only making out the most basic of her features in the absence of light. Her lip curled up a bit into a challenging look. He realized that she was amused by his hesitation, something of which she must have no inkling.

"I..." he started. Squall raised up a finger to his lips to shut him up. The idiot had ruined his time with Julia talking and he wasn't gonna let him do it again. He closed his face in close to Laguna's and licked his own finger all the way up to the quivering lip on which it rested. When the tongue got to Laguna's mouth, Squall dropped his finger down just in time for a swooped in kiss. He reveled in the new surge of action from his father. The hands promisingly returned to his ass and again they were kissing, heads turning side to side like in the movies.

Squall moved his hand a bit where it rested on the bulge in Laguna's slacks. The rubbing motion produced a delightful moan from the older man and because they were still kissing, the sound was muffled by Squall's mouth. Again the room felt a bit disorienting with surrealism. He was holding his father's cock in his hand. In all ways, Laguna was going to make this hard on him; Squall's hope that his own slim cock had been inherited vanished. He had never held another man's penis before, never even contemplated it before this bizarre idea had entered his head, but the solid flesh in his hand seemed to be of an impressive size.

Laguna's lower half was at the mercy of the woman that his brain kept insisting was Julia, not that the woman he had loved was anything like this aggressive temptress, but because it was how he wanted it to be. He wanted the touches and she was so eager to give them; what could the harm be? In his growing number of years on the planet, Laguna had learned that if he had to ask that question, the answer was inevitably: a fucking lot. Also, the times that he did ask himself that, those were the times that he was least likely to follow logic.

When Laguna's hands attempted to reach around to the front, Squall implemented his plan to avoid such gropes. Using a bit of his stealth skills learned as a mercenary, he pressed his fake breasts into Laguna's chest and lowered himself slowly to the floor. The artificial breasts were made with a combination of water and mineral oil. Rinoa had confided in him that on special occasions she occasionally wore them, just for a boost, she'd said. The consistency of the falsies was not indistinguishable from real breasts to the fingertips, but Rinoa had assured him that Laguna would not be able to tell by just chest to chest contact. She had said so with a blush on her cheeks. Helping him look like a woman was one thing, giving him tips about seducing his father had been another. Squall believed that she was right and Laguna wouldn't notice, because he hadn't the one time he had taken an initiative and kissed Rinoa.

He couldn't really see the zipper that he was facing in the darkness of the office, but he could feel the metal teeth jutting out beneath a thick layer of cloth. For some reason, Squall inhaled through his nose as he hovered over Laguna's erection. It was some sort of strange curiosity that he felt immediately embarrassed about, but now was not the time to be coy. Odd enough to be playing house with the man who had given him life whom he had never gotten to know as father; it was best not to focus on any of the whys.

With his lips, he outlined the shape of Laguna's frustration as he brought his fingers up to fiddle with the hidden button on the pants.

Laguna was sure now of two deeply contrary things. One, he should put an end to this random fling that the woman was so easily stepping into. He had never had sex in his office before, in part because that adventurous side of himself had tempered off with age and also because he had more respect for the position than that. He certainly didn't think that he should be having sex with a woman whose tongue he was better acquainted with than the whole of her personality. The other thing he knew was that he should seize this opportunity like a drunken frat boy. It had been more months than he count since he had gotten laid and if he closed his eyes, though of the dress and the hair and the eyes, it would be as if he was being fellated by Julia, not that he thought for a moment the real woman would have debased herself so eagerly. The logic in his head then proceeded to be popped like a balloon by the release of his dick from his pants.

Laguna mewled a bit. She had undone both the button, the zipper, and then somehow worked his boxers in such a way as to pop his penis out of the hole in the front. It felt so good to be freed, but that was like comparing Pez to strawberry cheesecake once the woman's mouth covered his erection. There was a mirror that hung near the door with three wooden knobs beneath it that was for hanging scarves and hats. His hand clung to the center knob as he gasped, feeling weak in the knees.
Penis did not taste like much of anything. Squall was a bit disappointed. He had been preparing himself for a disgusting flavor. Why did women make such a fuss about this? It was drier than a tongue, though just as soft, and other than the teensy moisture on the tip, it was just as bland as a throat or arm. He was now far less worried about his ability to swallow without gagging, should the situation arise. He was hoping that it wouldn't come to that, pun unintended.

From his research online, he had gleaned what a specialty deep throating was considered. Squall was not going to be half-assed at anything about this mission (as he was treating it) and so he had practiced accordingly. The cucumbers were a poor idea, because men just weren't usually hung that way, so he had gone to carrots. Yes, they might be a little small on the girth side, but he figured that the key was in banishing the gag reflex and for that the little orange vegetables were excellent preparation.

Practice paid off. His eyes didn't even water as he slid easily down Laguna's cock to the very base where ticklish little black hairs nested. The shocked gasp that he heard from above him made all those pointy carrots worthwhile. There was a softness even in Laguna's hardness that made the experience way more pleasurable. Well, he hadn't found the vegetable fellatio enjoyable at all really, but his own body was responding quite positively to the same action performed on his father. There was the scent of dried soap on the curly hairs which was stimulating his genitals nearly as much as the act of bobbing his head up and down on the hardened cock.

Laguna's grip tightened on the wooden knob to the point that he was worried it would come off in his hand. This woman was no amateur. As a soldier, he had heard his share of deep-throating tales, but he couldn't honestly say that he had experienced it firsthand. It felt like nothing he had felt before. Being in a woman's mouth was pleasurable enough without being completely engulfed by the slick throat slides. He was having trouble breathing it was so good. When the cold air again touched his cock, his hand reached for her hair, instinctively trying to get that mouth back to where he wanted it.

Not even his namesake could have blown off the wig, so securely attached it was to Squall's head, but it made him nervous regardless when Laguna touched it, pulling his head back down. He carefully tilted his head to the side and laid his own fingers on Laguna's as he gestured for the hand to be removed. Laguna did so immediately, probably feeling a bit silly for having grabbed hold in the first place. Squall's knees clicked as he hauled himself up in as dainty of a way as he could manage. This was going to be tricky.

When the woman stood up and turned her back to him, his libido spoke louder than any of his gentlemanly reserve and he began to kiss on her neck while pressing his pelvis against her rounded butt-cheeks. Her hand moved behind her and gripped the outside of his thigh, encouraging. Soon enough though, the hand moved off of him, to pull aside the fabric of her dress. The high slit acted as the gap between two curtains and the sliding of the cloth revealed a tempting portion of her backside. His hand covered hers, then traveled to the median of her body, feeling the ridge of a thong as he cupped an entire globe of cheek. Perhaps his hand gripped too roughly for what he was comfortable with, but the throaty sigh that emanated from her demonstrated how okay she was with the groping.

Squall was not a vocal human being. He was caught by surprise at the sound that moaned out of him when Laguna took a commanding hold of his ass. He bit down on his kiss-tired lower lip. Strange to think that it had come out of him without his will being involved.

With a stealthy hand, Squall reached down his bra and pulled out a small pop-cap vial of lubricant. His front side was hidden from Laguna's already limited vision in the dark room. Laguna was kissing the back of his neck and running hands around his ass. With a loud, "Mmm" Squall masked the sound of the vial opening. He encouraged some of the liquid onto his forefinger and thumb before shutting the small container and pocketing it back down his top.

The woman's hand moved back again to her ass, and much to Laguna's shock, proceeded to shift her thong aside. The delicate fingers moved into regions that Laguna was desperate to explore more. He didn't have a very good view of what she was doing, but her upper arm was rubbing against his chest as she wiggled her hand beneath the flap of her dress. His eager cock rocked into the back of her hand, anxious to get its chance wherever her fingers were. It was almost embarrassing how into this he was now, but in front of a woman as unreserved as this was, modesty seemed pointless.

As soon as Squall was done lubricated the area, he again handled Laguna's erection this time facing the opposite direction. He coaxed the stiff organ closer to his ass. Laguna's body went along with the assistance and soon the head of his cock was pressing against Squall's opening. Squall took a deep breath. He had prepared as much for this as he had the fellatio, so it wasn't fear that slowed his actions, but carefulness. He did not want Laguna to slip in location and find his way to a non-existent place blocked by testicles. Even while calculating as he was, Squall could feel each individual arm hair raised up on him like he was being electrified. He wanted to feel it, his father's cock penetrating him.

Laguna let her hand guide his path and when he pushed forward into her, it was so tight and warm that he almost ignored the wrong angle, but there was too many years of nagging training from the women he had been with about accidentally entering the wrong hole. "Shit," he swore as he slid into her. God, it felt so good, but he pulled out anyway, with an apology of course. "I'm so sorry."

"No!" she rasped. "Please go back."

Could she have meant what it sounded like to his idiotic ears. "What?"

Squall had felt the breadth of him and needed more. Him pulling immediately out was like having an exciting mission canceled; Squall wanted it back. Rather than argue about what they were doing, he fell back on Laguna again, grateful for the tall heels that placed him high enough to do so. The piercing, filling pleasant pain made him bite his lip, harder than the last time, because his ass was still stinging. He found that even the biting felt good when he was being fucked for he could feel his cock angrily straining against the binding thong.

After being given the permission to do so, Laguna took his ass with enthusiasm, the thrusts deep inside Squall. Each time that Laguna's pelvis bumped against him, cock in to the base, Squall had to fasten his jaws tightly. He kept wanting to make a sound, which would have been so humiliating for him. He wanted to moan and whine like a woman in Irvine's pornographic movies. It was the most shocking self-revelation of his short life to find that he was enjoying this and wanting more. He pushed back into Laguna as much as he was being pushed forward, the collision intense enough to make his vision blurry.

Laguna panted over her back like a mating dog. His balls felt like bursting already, high from the illicit encounter and the forbidden place he was thrusting into. She was so quiet that he would be worried that he was hurting her if it wasn't for her hips rushing back to meet his with each shove. He couldn't shut his eyes, enamored by the red dress, the silky black hair, things that he associated with Julia. He would have loved to be doing this to her, but wasn't he in a way? No, he could never have treated Julia like this, so disrespectfully. Or would she have liked it this way?

Squall could feel the erratic change take over Laguna's hips and knew that they were close. Laguna's hoarse whispers of unintelligible nonsense had increased with his grunts. Squall didn't care what the man was saying, the speaking was sexy. All the sounds were arousing, the squishing of their bodies together and Laguna's ragged breathing and that thumping as Laguna took him harder and harder. He raised his hand to his mouth and bit down, stifling any noise he was feeling like making. He could smell the "scent-free" lubricant on his fingers.

Unbidden, his hand traveled down. There, underneath the tight binding fabric of underwear, he felt the tight knot of arousal that was making him a slave to the things that Laguna was doing to his ass. Just the brief contact of his palm over that area sent off sparks through him, forcing his teeth to clamp down all the tighter on the unclean hand. Yet he was like an animal, incapable of resisting touching the spot again. With the combination of sensations behind and in front of him, he was consumed by pleasure.

A tiny whine peeked out of Squall.

That little sound of need was the last straw for Laguna who had already begun spiraling to orgasm from the clenching that the woman's ass had started to do. He felt the orgasm ripped from him like she'd ripped out his heart. Everything that he had he emptied into her, lower body jerking spasmodically.

Squall heard himself make the high-pitched whimper and he reacted like the bitch he was acting like, his body lost control. The hand on his cock was practically unnecessary, for he would have come at that moment anyway, but it only added to the pressure of it all. The ejaculation was strong and his pelvis rocked backwards, his body favoring the fetal position when he came. That was when he felt the spray from Laguna. It was inside of him, the same liquid that had given him life. His orgasm peaked again, a second wave nearly as severe as the first.

Laguna allowed himself to stay inside until his erection lost rigidity. Squall stayed in the bent over posture. He was in a desperate mindset, unsure of what to do or how to feel. He hadn't even begun to think of how he was going to hide the slick mess on the front of his dress. He was too busy wondering what the living hell had come over him and who this new side of him was. It was as if he'd just woken up a pod person.

Gradually, Laguna's sense of propriety creeped back in and he realized that he was hunched over a strange woman with his flaccid dick dripping on her dress. He stood up and began adjusting his clothing. The woman also started to get presentable. Out of politeness, he kept his body turned around as she straightened her dress. He fastened his pants back up. He could feel the moistness around his fly and he hoped that it wasn't going to be as obvious under light as he thought it might be. Then he remembered that he still had his workout clothes in his a drawer in his desk. It would be a lot less humiliating to attend a fancy party in gym sweats than with a wet crotch. He wondered suddenly if that would be a problem for her in her dress. He frowned at her darkly lined silhouette.

"Um, I have a long coat here. I keep it on my chair for when it's raining. Um, would that be something that you might want to use?"

Her back was still to him, but she peered over her shoulder and smiled at him. She nodded and then went back to straightening her bra. He blushed before turning away from her to the large wheeled desk chair. He never wore the trench coat that he had bought on a whim after seeing one of his son's friends wearing a similar one. It had just looked so cool on the eighteen year old. On him, it made him feel goofy. It was probably for the best if he gave it away now. The fabric was cold to the touch and he wondered if there would be any dust on it. For the past few months it had been like a bed ruffle, decorative but not very useful.

"Now this is gonna be a bit big on you, but it's um..." he had almost said dry, but that seemed too gross of thing to say. Instead, he ended the sentence with "warm." He felt like a dumb ass.

It astonished Squall that Laguna had been considerate enough to offer his coat. It wasn't that his father lacked manners; it was just weird that he'd had the mental astuteness to realize that Squall might need to cover up. Strangely, if he had been a woman as Laguna thought he was, he probably wouldn't have needed the coat. At least that was what Squall thought, but having never slept with a woman, he didn't know. Either way, the coat, while comically too large, had been extremely convenient. Squall buttoned the front buttons over his crotch.

"So, uh, thank you?"

His father's eloquence made Squall want to slap his own forehead. This was no doubt why Laguna had stayed single after Raine's passing. Some girls might find this shit endearing, but any woman in her right mind would avoid this rampant stupidity in earnest.

The woman made no comment to his awkward attempt at conversation. She simply opened the door and walked out of the office. He started to follow, but she shut the door behind her. He gaped at the closed door. So that was it? He walked to his desk and leaned on it heavily, confusion hopping around his brain. part of him felt used and hurt, but that was a small bit, because the louder macho voice was doing the funky chicken. "That was weird," he said to the empty room. He had no idea.

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I referenced this story in another fanfiction and it took me eight years to get around to writing it. :P Anyway, if there are some formatting issues, it's because the cut and paste removed all my paragraphs and I had to put each one back in.