A Song of Sex and Desire

by King_of_Spartans

Summary:

Instead of being a pussy, what if Jon Snow got pussy?

Chapter 1: Ros

Jon Snow had known what he was since the first day he could speak.

A Bastard.

Granted, it had taken him several more days of independently trying to determine what Lady Stark and her guards meant when they uttered those words, but not a single one of Winterfell’s servants would answer him when he asked them what a bastard was and if he was one, with all of them claiming that it wasn’t their place to tell a son of the Warden of the North such things.

With those avenues of information gathering denied to him, Jon had been forced to lean back on the one individual outside of his family that he could rely on when he was younger: Maester Luwin.

Luwin had been cooped up in the Maester’s tower that day, Jon recalled with a small smile spreading across his face, and had nearly been startled out of the stool he sat upon when the three-name day old Jon Snow walked up to him and loudly asked, “Am I a Bastard?”

Maester Luwin had immediately asked where he had learned such a word, and a visible frown crossed his mouth when he truthfully answered that he had heard the Lady Stark and her guards from the Riverlands constantly muttering it to themselves for as long as he could remember, but he had never known what is meant and now that he wanted to know, all of the servants of Winterfell refused to inform him.

Always a proponent for learning, even those pieces of information that were hard to hear, Maester Luwin had informed him that the Lady Stark was accurate, and well in her place, to say that he was a bastard, but, although it was the truth, it was beyond the guard’s place to say such things, especially within the walls of Winterfell. Luwin had gone on to describe that the North defined a bastard as a child born out of wedlock, and that was it beyond all bastards sharing the same surname of ‘Snow’, the same that Jon himself had.

Naïve as he was, Jon had enthusiastically asked if that meant he had a bunch of brothers and sisters outside the walls of Winterfell, the only place Jon had even known, and Luwin had given him a small smile as he leaned in to whisper, “I suppose that would make me your brother, then.”

Luwin had muttered that technically, he had shed his surname upon receiving his links at the Citadel of Oldtown and becoming a Maester, but he would never forget that he himself was a Snow. Luwin had admitted that he had never known who his mother was, just like Jon himself, but his father had a second son of the Karstarks, and if their Snow surname did not make them brothers, they were still blood by kin, no matter how distant that blood was these days.

As a bastard son of a second son, Luwin had had no possibility of one day governing a keep for himself, and he had learned from a young age that in order to make something out of his life, he had to be one to do so.

Luwin Snow had known that he was not meant to be a warrior on the frontlines of battle, for as decent as he was with a sword in his hands, he didn’t have the ability of an average swordsman, much less one that could make his own way.

No, Luwin had learned that his true gift came with knowledge, and he had relentlessly pursued it until his grandfather noticed it, praised it, and sent him down to the Citadel to further pursue his knowledge. At the Citadel, Luwin had pushed beyond the tasteless comments of his peers, most of them second sons themselves, albeit trueborn, knowing that their opinion mattered little and even less in the North.

A few weeks before Luwin would earn his first link, the Citadel received word from Winterfell that previous Maester had fallen ill and had not recovered, and now was in need of a Maester, one that had been born and raised in the North. To Luwin’s surprise, all of the other Maesters or Acolytes that fulfilled such stringent criteria had either long since been assigned to other holdfasts or were not deserving of serving such a high lord, and Luwin had been at the top of the Arch-Maester’s list for a replacement.

Grateful for the opportunity, Luwin had been given his links in medicine, economics, and ravenry a few days afterwards, and then he left for Winterfell, and he had never looked back.

He had faithfully served Jon’s grandfather, Lord Rickon Stark, and once he had passed, he had continued served the Stark by way of his father, Lord Eddard Stark.

Eventually, Luwin had realized that they had long since deviated from the original track of the conversation, and directed their focus back to the concept of bastards. To Luwin’s dislike, the South, or to be more accurate the followers of the Seven, had a slightly different definition of a bastard, and that was a child born out of wedlock that was forever destined to be burdened by sin.

As a bastard himself, Luwin had never believed such ideology, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t countless thousands of people living south of the Neck that did, and that was from whence the Lady Stark and her guards came from.

Luwin had gotten up at that point to take Jon to his Lord Father, but not before saying that even if the guards were truthful in saying that Jon was born out of wedlock, they had not the station to say such to his face, for even though Jon was a bastard, he was still a son of the Warden of the North, and thus they were leagues beyond their place to insult him to his face.

His father had been rightfully angered upon being informed of such by Maester Luwin, and had immediately dismissed all of the guards that his Lady Wife with her from Riverrun, claiming that guards that would insult a child of the Lord of Winterfell could not be trusted to protect any of them, and thus had no place in his castle.

As anyone would expect, Lady Stark had been enraged upon learning of what had occurred by a servant, and had prompted went out into the Courtyard to face his Lord Father, and what had followed would forever be one of Jon’s favorite memories.

Lady Stark had screeched that his Lord Father had no right to do what he did, and even at his young age, Jon had noticed how the courtyard of loyal Winterfell servants, guards, and other commonfolk had immediately frozen and turned to face the Lady Stark with a disbelieving look on their faces.

Unmindful of the situation that she had placed herself in, Lady Stark had continued to dig herself a deeper hole as she had publicly stated that Brandon would have never done such a thing to her, and Lord Stark had instantly lashed out.

“I am the Lord of Winterfell, Wife.” He had stated, calm as a winter breeze. “I am the Warden of the North, and the only man I bear witness to is the King, and the only gods I pray to are the Old Gods, and both would support me in my decisions here today. If you support those worthless guards’ actions from this day forth, I will personally write to the King to dismiss you of your duties as my wife. Am I understood?”

Although she had claimed to understand, the former Lady Stark had clearly not understood his Lord Father’s words, and mere moons later after the incident in the courtyard, Maester Luwin had received a raven from her Lord Father, Hoster Tully, the Lord of Riverrun, that he would promptly be sending new guards to his prized daughter, and at first, everything had seemed fine.

Jon’s Lord Father had tentatively approved the guards to be welcomed into his castle, but mere days after their arrival, they had ganged up on Jon in his rooms and nearly beaten him to death, and it was only thanks to the actions of Ser Jory Cassel that he would be saved.

Enraged, Jon’s Lord Father had executed the guards, whether they were present for his beating or not, and had sent a letter to Lord Hoster Tully that war had been declared for attacking a son of the Lord of Winterfell within his own castle, as well as one to King’s Landing saying the same in addition to Lord Stark requesting his Lady Wife be stripped of her title.

Much to Hoster Tully’s relief, the King had personally ridden up to calm the situation, although from what Jon had been informed of by Maester Luwin, the King himself had nearly provoked the war into occurring when he had demanded that Hoster Tully pay 100,000 Gold Dragons from Riverrun’s vault to Jon Snow personally as recompense for his guards actions, and faced with the North on one side and the King on the other, Hoster Tully had done as all Tully’s had done before him and knelt, even with how much he disliked the outcome.

The King had then personally signed a decree that removed Catelyn Tully as Jon’s Lord Father’s wife after she gave birth to her children, who would turn out to be twins: Sansa and Arya Stark.

It was only through Maester Luwin determining that Catelyn had no involvement in the guards near murder of Jon that his Lord Father would allow for her presence to remain in Winterfell to raise their children, although his Lord Father and his trusted Maester would personally see to their education.

It seemed that the former Lady Stark had learned her place that day, for Jon recalled not a single moment when she spoke negatively of him, even to his siblings, allowing Jon to bond with them as true siblings in addition to his trueborn brother, Robb, his Lord Father’s heir.

As Jon had spoken to him in the past, he was honestly grateful that Robb was the Heir, particularly after noticing all of the rules that Robb had to follow as the Heir of Winterfell. Meanwhile, as a Bastard, Jon had no responsibilities whatever, beyond being a possible spare considering that there no more male Stark’s after his Lord Father and Brother, for his Uncle Benjen had long his sworn himself away to the Night’s Watch, but even then, Jon was much less pressured.

Much to the dismay of Maester Luwin, Jon had never really applied himself in his studies. Sure, he was the Spare, but Jon was pretty much set after Hoster Tully’s blood payment for the rest of his life, and he was content with his meager knowledge of politics that he had been forced to learn.

Instead, Jon had devoted himself in the path of his rescuer, Ser Jory Cassel; to the way of the warrior.

Not the Warrior of the Seven, but a warrior of the North.

And he was good at it, so much so that all the rumors of his birth mother being Ashara Dayne had practically been accepted as truth, for what other child but a nephew of Ser Arthur Dayne himself beat some of the greatest warriors of the North by his two and tenth name day?

Granted, Jon’s Lord Father had never explicitly confirmed the true identity of his mother, but he had stated that his mother had perished in the birthing bed, and everyone knew that Ashara Dayne had long since been dead.

Jon had never truly cared, for he had a family. He had his father, his elder brother, and his younger twin sisters, and that was all he needed. His Lord Father raised him, his brother trained with him, and his sisters kept him grounded.

Sometimes, it wasn’t enough though, and that had prompted the emergence of a vice that Jon knew that his father would be disappointed in him for, but he couldn’t help it at times. He always managed to push through it when he was younger by sparring until his body gave out, but when his body started to mature, that tactic steadily became less and less effective by the day until Jon couldn’t bear it, but luckily, he had found a release.

Nowadays, Jon had found that he couldn’t live without it, and that had prompted his trek this very day to the outskirts of Winter Town where his destination laid.

The Winter Town Brothel, workplace of his favorite whore, Ros.

Jon’s breeches tightened at the thought of her, and Jon had to outwardly control himself from stepping up his pace, knowing that appearances were still necessary outside of the brothel.

Once he got inside, however…

It would be time for the Wolf to come out and play, and his blood just couldn’t wait.

It took only minutes for Jon to make the journey, and, with an ease that demonstrated his numerous visits in the past, navigated his way through the door and to the room he booked, giving a brief nod of acknowledgement to the girl in the front but not even pausing, both of them knowing he knew exactly where he was going.

Up the stairs, three doors to the left, and as Jon opened the door, he let an amused smile spread across his face.

There she was, sitting on the edge of the bed, anxiously awaiting his arrival.

As he opened the door, her head turned to face him, and a smile crossed her own face upon recognizing him at the entrance. “Jon,” she purred, shifting to face him while also allowing him to gain a better view of her body, clad as they were in only her red undergarments. “Good to see my favorite customer for the third time this week.”

Jon raised an eyebrow, shaking off his outermost layer and hanging it on the nearest piece of furniture, “You say that as if I have a problem.”

Ros smirked, “Definitely not in my bedroom, but perhaps how frequently you visit could be a problem.”

Jon’s smile quickly vanished as he scowled, “Don’t remind me. My father would most definitely frown upon my visits, and even more so at how often I visit.”

Ros bowed her head, “If you allow me to be honest, Jon?” Upon seeing his curious nod, she took a breath. “I think this will be me final acceptance of your visit for now.”

Jon reeled, “What?”

“To put it frankly, I can’t be as good of a whore as I am if my pussy gets ravaged to the point where I lose consciousness three times a week.” Ros stated. “As good as the sex is, I can’t trade these moments, as very pleasurable as they are, for the income I need to survive.” As Jon was about to reply, she raised a hand, “Yes, I know you are rich enough that you could afford me for the rest of your life, but even I couldn’t take that cock every single day for every single moon for the rest of my life. You need somebody else, Jon; a whole lot of somebody else’s.”

Still rattled by the perceived rejection, Jon sat heavily on the single chair in the corner of the room, a look of brooding appearing on his face as he started to think about her words, leading Ros to sigh as she got up off of the bed and moved to sit in Jon’s lap.

“I’m not saying that I’m opposed to welcoming your visits every moon or so, but I just can’t take that beast of a cock for the rest of my life. Unlike you, I’m only good at sex, and as distasteful as it is at times, it’s my life, and I can’t change it. If my pussy loses value, I lose value, and then I’m done. Eventually, even you would leave, and then I would be left with nothing.” Noticing his downcast look, she scooped his face into her hands as she cooed, “I’m sorry Jon, I know that you probably weren’t expecting this the moment you walked in, but think about it.”

Seeing his eyes begin to lighten, Ros smirked, “I get to sustain my livelihood, and you get to ravage every pussy in existence. It’s a win-win in my books.” Ros leaned forwards to whisper in his ear. “Besides, I did say this would be the last time, so I would make use of it, or should I say, me, before-”

Before Ros could finish her teasing statement, she was cut off by a set of lips crashing into hers, leading her to reflexively moan into Jon’s lips. As true as her words were, she would miss Jon, and that was part of the problem.

She was a lowborn whore, and though he was a bastard, he was a noble’s bastard. He was a high lord’s bastard.

Although he would forever deny it, Jon would one day move on, and though he had a gentle heart, Ros wouldn’t accept any charity from him. The Old Gods had seen fit to place them into their own respective lives, and it was up to them to make something of it.

Jon was born for higher things than fucking a lowborn whore’s pussy for the rest of his life, for why else why they gift him with that monster of a cock?

Nine inches long, five inches of girth; Ros had not been lying when she had said it was a monster of a cock.

Hell, Ros would go as far as to say that it was a gift from the Old Gods themselves, and it couldn’t have been their wishes for it to be squandered by her for the rest of their lives.

As much as she hated the thought of going without it, it was meant for better things than her lowly pussy, and although it had taken several moons for Ros to finally arrive at that conclusion, it had broken her heart all the same when she had done so.

It didn’t make it any less the truth, however.

It also didn’t mean that she would squander her last moments of it, and Ros was going to make very good use of it if it was the last thing she did.

With that thought in mind, Ros slowly broke away and started to lower her legs into a kneeling position in front of the chair without muttering a single word, leading to a satisfied grin forming on Jon’s face.

What Ros had said was true, after all.

If this was to be their last encounter, Jon would make it one for her to remember.

Before Ros could begin work on pulling down his breeches, Jon laced his hand through her curly, red hair and pulled, making Ros look up with a curious look on her face.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jon clicked. “And here I thought you were a good girl, Ros, but good girl ask for permission, don’t they?”

Ros’s mouth twitched in amusement, quickly understanding what he wanted out of her, rapidly schooling her face, “Of course, my lord, please forgive your lowly servant’s lapse in memory.”

Jon rubbed the developing hairs on his chin with his free hand, “I’m not so sure that I should. This isn’t the first time that this has happened, if I do recall.” He observed the kneeling redhead for a moment before a glint in his eyes appeared. “Perhaps a punishment is in order.”

Ros’s doe-like eyes blinked, “What kind of punishment, my lord?”

Jon’s grasp of her hair tightened, “Whatever punishment I so desire, whore.”

Ros spluttered, “Of course, my l- ugh.” Before she could finish her reply, Jon pulled on her hair once more, guiding her back to her feet, scooping her body into his arms, and then roughly tossing her on the bed.

As Ros got onto her hands and knees, Jon yanked down his breeches, exposing his half erect cock to Ros’s feasting eyes, subconsciously moving forward while licking her lips. Gathering her hair in his hands once more, Jon tsked, “I see my little whore has already forgotten herself once more.”

Ros’s lashes fluttered, “How many I redeem myself, my lord?”

Jon smirked, tugging on her hair in the direction of his hips, “Suck.”

Without a second’s pause, Ros’s mouth expanded as she leaned in closer, taking the head as well as an additional inch into her mouth, her tongue swirling around his tip in delight.

Jon grunted, “Did I say you could stop?”

Ros attempted to backtrack to provide a response, but Jon instead thrusted his hips forwards, forcing a few more inches inside her open and willing mouth and Ros to let out a muffled shriek.

After graciously providing Ros a few moments to regain her breath, still with half of his cock resting inside her mouth, Jon jerked the red strands of curly hair once more as a signal that he was rapidly getting impatient with the lack of moment, a signal that Ros was easily able to understand as she began to bob her head back and forth, steadily accepting more of his cock deeper into her jaw until it hit the back of her throat.

Ros let out a soft gag, the involuntary movement sending vibrations through the portion of Jon’s cock residing inside her mouth, and prompting a low moan and a reflex hip thrust that attempted to pack the final inches inside the whores’ mouth. Unfortunately for Jon, Ros’s mouth was unable to accept any more of his length, and the unconscious action only resulted in a series of gagging noises for Ros once more.

Not desiring for his company for the evening to kill herself to comply with his punishment, Jon withdrew with a noticeable frown on his face, this particular circumstance having not occurred in any of their past meetings, and Jon began to wonder if he had taken it too fast.

“I’m fine, Jon.” Ros wheezed, their roleplaying moment having ended for the moment. “Just not used to choking on so much dick in such little time.”

Ros rose to her knees on the bed as she scooted closer to him to the point where her large breasts were mashed up against his chest, leading Jon to reflexively circle his arms around her body to grasp onto her pillowy cheeks, confined as they still were in her undergarments.

Ros looked into Jon’s eyes, a strange glint inside them, “I’m a whore, Jon, that’s all I’ll ever be. I’ve been spoiled by you and your monster of a cock, but I’m well aware not every lord seeking pleasure will care as much for my well-being.” Ros drifted her head closer to his ears to murmur, “I’m ready and willing to take anything you dish out, my lord. Use me, break me, make me your whore-”

While Ros whispered her soft, sweet, no so innocent words into his ears, Jon’s eyes, unseen by anyone in the room, began to develop a tinge of purple, and by the time Ros had mentioned her being made into Jon’s personal whore, he finally snapped as he spun her around, grasping onto her massive chest as he did so and beginning to rub them.

“You want to me my whore, aye?” He whispered into her ear, prompting Ros to excitedly bob her head in agreement. Noticing such a reaction, Jon ground his exposed cock in between Ros’s fleshy cheeks as Ros let out a throaty moan, “Then I’m going to wreck your pussy so hard that you’ll feel echoes of it with every step you take.”

Dazed by the two streams of pleasure, Ros babbled, “Yes….yes….YES!”

Jon ripped her bra in half, inciting a pleased sigh from Ros’s lips, and allowing Jon to obtain a better handhold of the creamy melons topped with a pair of rosy tips. Jon pinched one of the freed nipples with his left hand while his right hand began to descend further to slip inside of Ros’s lingerie, and then slithered its way into Ros’s dripping, clean-shaven womanhood.

Ros wailed as two of his large, meaty fingers burrowed their way into her sopping pussy, expertly rubbing against her inner walls, all the while her nipples are rapidly switched between being pinched and Jon continued to slide his cock betwixt her fat cheeks.

“That’s it, Ros.” Jon muttered. “Such a whore you are being for me.” Jon suddenly froze, leading Ros to let out a whine of despair, having come so close to a release.”

“Please…. please my lord.” Ros pleaded. “I’m so close.”

Although being behind Ros, Jon shook his head slowly, “You know how it is, Ros. Only good little whores get rewards, and you’ve been a bad whore, not being able to take my cock without complaint.”

Ros wiggled, her ass cheeks still sandwiched around his cock, as she beseeched of him, “What do I need to do, my lord? I need to cum!”

Jon playfully began to rub the outside of her leaking womanhood, knowing that while she still got pleasure from such an action, it wasn’t nearly enough to drive her over the edge.

A sudden idea popped into his head, leading a dark look to spread across Jon’s face, leading him to growl, “You’ve never taken my in your asshole, have you, my dear little whore? How naughty you’ve been, knowingly denying a paying customer access to your whorish holes.”

Drowning in her pleasure as she was, Ros barely even comprehended his words, leading Jon to reach upwards with both of his hands and harshly pull on both of her nipples simultaneously, leading her to shriek once more as the pleasure began to overload her body.

“Well, Ros?” Jon questioned; his voice amused. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry!” She squealed. “Take my ass, my lord! Take anything you want of me, just let me cummmmmmmmmmmm!”

Hearing her approval, Jon slid her drenched lower undergarments to the side and shoved half of his massive cock into her pussy within a single instant, immediately driving Ros to her long awaited orgasm and prompting a waterfall of fluids to cascade onto the bedsheets.

Finally having obtained a source of pleasure of his own, Jon refused to stop, not that it appeared that Ros even wanted him to, gathering Ros’s outstretched legs into his arms and lifting her fully off the bed, her entire weight resting in his arms. Despite his young, undefined stature, his muscles didn’t even tremble with the burden they now found themselves occupied with, allowing Jon to begin bouncing his red-haired whore up and down his now thoroughly lubricated length, plunging it deep within the recess of her snatch.

Buried inside of her walls as he was, Jon noticed that they began to flutter in a way that they never had before, leading Jon to a conclusion and a very wide grin.

Ros was being dominated more than he had ever dared to do so before, and she loved it.

She truly was a whore.

Letting out a deep moan of his own as his cock was pleasantly massaged by Ros’s inner tunnel, Jon began to crack back his hips in order to begin thrusting, granting Jon the ability to dig ever deeper to explore the furthest depths that his length was able to find, an experience that Ros seemed to find extremely enjoyable if her very loud moans and her second orgasm of the day were any indication.

Regrettably, despite what both of them may wished, it couldn’t last forever, and Jon knew that he was coming close a release of his own as he felt his cock begin to throb and his ball began to tingle, and he knew exactly where to put it.

Ros began to let out another round of satisfied moans as she felt numerous streams of his cum begin to coat the inside of her tunnels, leading her muscles to soften in anticipation of relaxation.

Unfortunately for Ros, Jon had other plans.

Ros let out a confused noise as Jon guided her off his cock and onto all fours on the bed, but her eyes widened in comprehension as Jon hefted himself up after her and began to coat her back entrance with her very own pussy juices.

“Jon-” Ros attempted to say, only to be interrupted by her own body betraying her.

“You swore to me that you would finally let me take your ass, didn’t you, Ros?” Jon asked rhetorically. “If this is to be our last meeting, this is my only opportunity to collect, and by the Old Gods, I plan on collecting.”

“It’s too big, Jon!” Ros attempted to plead. “It will tear me apart!”

Satisfied that he had lubed up her back entrance enough, Jon began to bundle her hair into his left hand and pulled, bringing her upper body to the point where it was leaning against his chest as he whispered in her ear, “That’s the plan, my dear whore.”

Before Ros could further try to dissuade Jon from his determined course of action, Jon used his right hand to grab onto the front of his cock and began to guide the head into Ros’s most private place.

Wailing as her anal virginity was taken by the largest cock Ros had ever seen, Ros fell forward as her body was overloaded with a mix of pain and pleasure, her hair still in Jon’s grasp, allowing for her high-pitched cries to be at least partially muffled by the bedsheets, drenched as they were in her juices.

Gripping tighter on his collection of Ros’s long, curly red hair, Jon let out a pleased grown as he observed half of his length had already been swallowed up by Ros’s asshole but noticed that he was rapidly running out of lubricant. The solution instantly coming to mind, Jon pulled entirely out of Ros’s ass only to fully sheath himself back into Ros’s thoroughly soaked pussy, and began to thrust back and forth for a few moments to ensure he was once more fully lubricated.

Eventually, Jon removed his length for the second time, and even the bedsheets weren’t able to fully muffle the sound of how disappointed Ros was with such an action.

Chuckling, Jon navigated his cock back into Ros’s asshole, and shuddered in delight as it started to constrict, enhancing not only his pleasure but hers as well, and leading to simultaneously groans from them both.

Jon felt the sudden urge to slap Ros’s fleshy cheeks and proceeded to do so and found yet another kink that Ros seemed to enjoy as she lifted her head in order to cry out and she writhed in pleasure.

Continuing to spank Ros and watching the ripples that formed as a result, Jon murmured, “Sheesh, you really are getting into that subservient attitude today, aren’t you, my little whore?”

Ros shuddered as she screamed, “YES! YES, MORE, PLEASE!”

Jon pulled once more on her hair, likely ripping out some of the roots but neither cared, and allowing him to grasp onto Ros’s voluptuous chest once more, “You’re such a slut, Ros. You like being a whore, don’t you? My own personal whore, always there for me fuck, aye?”

Ros started to babble, her words gradually becoming more and more incoherent as her anal passage was ruined for all other men, not that she was likely to take any other men other than Jon back there in the first place, but her delight was not only heard by Jon, but also by a majority of the brothel that they were in.

After a few of minutes of exquisite pleasure from being ass fucked, Ros started to tremble as she began to reach the climax of her third orgasm of the day, prompting Jon to release his hold over her hair, pinch one of her nipples with one hand and then plunged his other hand as deep into Ros’s pussy as he could, saying, “You’re mine, Ros, and don’t you ever forget it!”

Convulsing as almost every avenue of pleasure assaulted her already overwhelmed senses, Ros could do naught but let out numerous brief, high-pitched whimpers as a torrent of juices began to seep downwards to form a puddle on their sheets.

Very close to reaching his own climax, Jon suddenly lowered his head to bite into Ros’s neck, biting down as he grunted, “Mine!”

Ros let out a final shriek as her orgasm temporarily increased in strength before forwards back onto her face, her body trembling as her muscles became overused, but had just enough strength to leave her heart-shaped ass dangling in the air, allowing Jon to reach his own release after a few more strokes, painting the insides of her anal passage white with his cream.

As Jon let out a sigh and began to remove his rapidly softening cock from Ros’s thoroughly abused, but satisfied, asshole, the vestiges of his cum slowly seeping outwards as he did so, he let out another chuckle as he observed Ros’s near comatose voluptuous figure, “Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

Notes:

For anybody curious as to the order of women I have planned, it is more based on kingdom than it is by individual character. Obviously, we're started in the North, then the tentative plan is to move to the Vale, Riverlands, Iron Islands, Westerlands, Reach, Dorne, Stormlands, Crownlands, and then onto Essos. I'm also thinking of doing some women from beyond the Wall (Val, Ygritte, etc.), but the exact placement has yet to be determined. If there are any women you want mentioned, let me know in the comments or by pm, and I'll try to give them a shot.

Chapter 2: 2- Jeyne Poole

Notes:

Please note that receiving two updates in as many days is extremely unusual for me. This week's load of assignments for me were extremely light, and this is one of three to four fics of mine that I'm currently passionate about. The more likely update schedule is once every two weeks, but even that is subject to change depending on which fic of mine I'm more interested in at any given day.

“You need to grow up, Jon Snow.”

Jon sneered at the man standing before him in anger; he didn’t need to do anything, lest of all listen to his father’s steward.

Unmindful, or perhaps uncaring, of his disobedient attitude, Vayon Poole, the Steward of Winterfell, continued his lecture, “You may be one of the richest people in all of Westeros, but you won’t be so for long if you throw money at every single thing you desire! You need to learn how to be manage your finances or else you’ll be as poor as those beggars in King’s Landing.”

Jon snorted, “If I ever run out of dragons, and that’s a pretty big if considering all of them that I have, Robb will always have my back, and if he doesn’t for some strange reason, Sansa and Arya will wherever they go, and I’ll be back on my feet in no time.”

Frustrated, Vayon threw his hands in the air, the pieces of parchment in his hands thrown as he did so, “That’s just it, you don’t understand, Snow! You can’t always rely on others to do your dirty work for you!”

Jon raised an eyebrow, “Doesn’t my father, and your lord, rely on you to do his dirty work for him?”

Without missing a beat, Vayon replied, “He does, because he’s a high lord, the Warden of the North. Doing such duties is below him, but the difference between my lord and his second son is almost as large as your ego, Snow!”

Jon casually leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin in amusement, “I didn’t know that there was that small of a gap between us.”

Vayon pressed his lips together, frustrated that yet another one of his meetings with his lord’s second son had turned out to be a disaster. If only Jon was more like his elder brother, or if only Maester Luwin had been able to impart more wisdom onto the boy while he was younger, Vayon’s life would’ve been a lot easier.

The worst part was, Jon was highly beloved by his lord father, and so Vayon could do naught but lecture him in a futile attempt to get him to understand, but nothing else lest Lord Stark grow tired of him.

If Vayon were to lose control of his anger and were to strike his lord’s son, trueborn or not it made no different, Vayon would lose the role of Stewardship that his ancestors had worked to maintain for centuries, and then he would likely meet them in the realm of the Old Gods soon after and would be forever condemned to their disappointed gazes for the rest of all eternity.

Vayon took in a deep breath, closing his eyes as he reassembled his focus, “As I have told you before, your fortune, however large it may be, is finite. You have no ability to replenish those funds, for you are not paid taxes, you do not know any land, and you do not own any operation that makes a profit. As dim-witted as you may make yourself out to be, I am well aware that you are Luwin’s prized student, and so I know of your intelligence. I just don’t understand how you can be so… frivolous!”

Jon gave his father’s steward a lopsided grin, “And what purchase have I made that you deem to be frivolous, Steward Poole?”

Vayon resisted the urge to roll his eyes, at least marginally satisfied that Jon was willing to engage in conversation, “You full well know that I am referring to the full suit of armor, you commissioned from Mikken, Snow.” Vayon narrowed his eyes. “That is, unless you’ve made some other purchase recently that exceeds what the common born could only dream of?”

After a moments pause, Jon shrugged, “I don’t think so, just the armor.”

Vayon pursed his lips, “Then why must you insist on playing this blasted game?”

“Ah, it’s fun?” Seeing Vayon’s blank stare, Jon mumbled, “At least for me it is.” Jon pressed his arms on the table as he lifted himself off the chair, meeting Vayon’s eyes with an even gaze. “I’m six and ten, Vayon, and I’m already basically the same height as my lord father. Although most of the denizens have as good of an idea of who my mother is as I do, Maester Luwin once taught me that the height of the taller parent, be them man or woman, is typically the maximum height of their children. My lord father is almost six feet even, and I am just a little shy of that. By perchance I do continue to grow, such growth is likely to be meager, and thus minimal adjustments are to be required to a full plate of armor. Therefore, it makes no difference if I were to commission an order for my own armor now or in five years, so long as my stomach does not grow as large as yours.”

Suddenly self-conscious, Vayon’s eyes quickly darted down to his, admittedly pot-sized, belly, before looking up at Jon’s entertained smile and replying, “That comment about my size aside, I understand the value of the importance of armor and your admittedly logical reasons of purchasing it now. However, none of that explains the need for a full suit when your father found a perfectly good chest piece for you to use upon your six and tenth name day.”

Jon scoffed, “By the Gods, do I really have spell it out? My lord father has fought in two wars in his life time and he just reached his fourth and thirty name day! You cannot sit here and tell me that the chances of a war occurring as Robb and I hit our full maturity are slim, especially when one considers that the Wildings haven’t invaded in decades, the Ironborn and the Dornish are waiting for a chance to rebel, and that’s without considering that exiled Targaryen’s that my father fought to overthrow!”

Stunned by Jon’s impassioned and impromptu speech, Vayon could do nothing but listen as Jon defended his reasoning, “If, or more accurately when, war does break out, I desire to be by my father and brother’s sides, and that would mean waiting for moons as my own suit of armor is commissioned.” Jon shook his head. “This way, when war does break out, I can be right by my brother’s side, and nothing can stop me.”

“Not even your lord father?”

Jon froze and slowly twisted his face to look at Vayon, “And, pray tell, what does that mean?”

Vayon stood his ground, “My lord knows full the burden of losing family, for he lost his parents and most of his siblings, all if one considers Benjen swearing himself away at the Wall, by his ten and two [twentieth] name day. If he experiences war once more in his lifetime…”

Vayon trailed off as Jon’s eyes blazed with anger, “My lord father shall not sideline me nor my brother! I refuse to believe it?”

The tables turned, Vayon raised an eyebrow, “Will you believe it when he orders it such?”

Consumed with fury, Jon swiped his hand across the table that sat between them, sending the numerous stacks of parchment scattered around the room. For a few very brief moments, Jon was severely tempted to physically lash out, and both he and Vayon were well aware that if he chose to do so, Vayon couldn’t stop him.

Unfortunately for Jon, Vayon couldn’t anything do anything to him, but his lord father could, and if was he that Jon was scared of most.

Before Jon could fully lose control of his temper, he stormed out of Vayon’s study, finished with his lessons for the day whether the steward liked it or not, and began his trek to the only place where Jon felt peace: The Godswood.

As Jon blindly began a turn around one of the sharp corners, he was too distracted and walking too fast to comprehend the image of another person walking in the opposite direction, and although the other person let out a squeal at the last moment, it was too late for either of them to do anything but walk into each other, and slam into one another they did.

Startled, Jon could only fall forwards, his weight surpassing that of the person he ran into, and subconsciously grabbed onto the person as he twisted himself around so that he could take the brunt of the impact.

His hands preoccupied with holding onto his victim, Jon had no way to slow down his momentum or to catch himself, leading to Jon’s head crashing into the cold, rough ground of Winterfell’s walkway.

Through Jon’s massive burst of pain in his head, he noted that the person he ran into was definitely a woman; her lack of weight in addition to the twin weights pressing down on his chest were as good as a confirmation as he could get in his dazed state.

Eyes blurry and ears ringing, he distantly heard a feminine voice yelp in surprise, “Jon?”

Jon let out an incoherent mumble, leading the girl to shift off his chest, now noticing that he wasn’t getting up, “Jon? Are you alright?” She questioned, only to get yet another incoherent mumble as a reply.

Understanding that he was hurt, the woman let out a shrill cry, “Guards? Guards!” and in a matter of moments a pair of guards came rushing towards them.

The woman frantically explained, “We were turning the corner at the same exact time, and Jon started to fall into me, pushing me backwards, but he turned around at the last moment to take the impact, and it seems like his head slammed into the ground. Is he going to be alright?”

As the guards lifted him, one from his legs and the other from his shoulders, one grunted, “I’m sure he’ll be fine, Lady Jeyne, but as a precaution, we’ll take him to Maester Luwin to ensure he’s alright.”

Lady Jeyne… Jon dazedly recognized the name, unknowing that he repeated the name.

“Jon?” Her voice repeated once more, her features coming into focus for a single moment before his eyes blurred once more.

“You saved me, Jon.” Her voice distantly said, but before Jon could even think of a reply, a group of black spots began to rapidly consume his vision, her concerned face being the last thing he saw before the world faded into darkness.

---

An explosion of noise woke Jon suddenly, his body instantly lurching as his eyes opened, allowing his eyes to be assaulted by a series of bright lights.

Grunting, Jon tried to raise his arms, but they felt pinned by a heavy weight, forcing Jon to rely on rapidly blinking in order to clear up his eyes. As his vision once more became accessible to him, he was able to note that he was in this fancy bedroom, far fancier than even his Lord Father’s, with a variety of golden jewelry and accessories scattered across the room.

Hearing a soft groan from around him, Jon curiously looked down, not only to find the source of the groan but also to determine what had bound his hands from moving, and what he saw almost forced his brain to stop.

Not only was he in a fancy bedroom, but he was also lying in this massive bed, perhaps the size of his entire room at Winterfell, and was accompanied by the forms of nine women that were all either barely or not at all dressed.

For some reason, their features were somewhat blurry, but Jon was at least able to note that four of them had long brown hair, one of which was more of a caramel color, three had blonde hair, one of which was cut on the shorter side, one of them had short red hair, and the last had silver hair, and Jon didn’t think that a single one of them shared the same eye color, although most shared the same general skin tone.

Most of them seemed to be around his age or a little bit younger or older, but there was also this one woman that seemed to be comfortably in the mature range of age, but there was one thing that Jon knew for certain.

He had not a single clue to who any of these women were, nor why they were being shown to him now.

Distantly, Jon remembered Ros’s words about him being meant more than just a lowly whore, but this couldn’t possibly be about that, could it?

Why in the name of the Old Gods would his future be surrounded by women? Didn’t they only support the relationships between two people, one male and one female?

This couldn’t possibly be his future, right?

Right?

---

Before Jon could take any more time to observe his surroundings, still trying to find an explanation for what he had seen, his sight vanished once more, only to gradually reappear, this time in a different room, and this one Jon was intimately familiar with.

The Winterfell Infirmary.

Jon let out a groan, his head suddenly throbbing with pain.

What happened?

The last thing he remembered was that he was trying to make his way to the Godswood after his lesson with Vayon Poole turned sour, and then he… ran into someone?

A woman, wasn’t it?

But who?

It turned out Jon would not have to wait long to receive his answer as his groan apparently caught the attention of another individual inside of the infirmary, leading out to a feminine voice calling out, “He’s awake! Jon’s awake!”

“Aw-ake?” Jon repeated, his throat sore and his voice unstable. “Why in-fir-miary?” Jon attempted to push himself upwards, his arms finally available to him, but another blast of pain in his head sent him crashing back down onto the bed, his eyes shutting as he attempted to shut down the pain.

“Easy there, brother. You took a hard fall.”

Easily recognizing the male voice that just spoke, Jon looked up to see the concerned face of his elder, and only, brother, Robb. His voice croaking, Jon asked, “W-hat hap-pen-ed?”

Robb playfully rolled his eyes, concerned as they were, “You just had to go off and play the hero, from what I have been told.” He gestured to the side, where a young woman stood, her hands holding onto each other in front of her waist. “Lady Jeyne says that you turned the corner in such a rush that neither she nor you spotted each other in time, and with your weight pushed her backwards, only for you to turn you both around at the last moment, allowing you to take the brunt of the impact.”

“Lady Jeyne realized that you were hurt and quickly summoned the guards to take you to Luwin, and you’ve been resting your pretty face here ever since.” Robb chuckled. “Never an easy day for you, eh, Snow?”

His memories coming back to him more clearly as Robb’s announced Jeyne’s side of the story, Jon felt the tide of anger provoked by his father’s steward coming back to him as he growled, “Poole.”

“Yes, my lord?” Within an instant, Jeyne vanished from the door to reappear at his bedside. “Is there something I can assist you with? Cold water, perhaps? The Maester recommended that you drink some fluids as soon as you awakened, but he didn’t anticipate it happening-”

“Yes.” Robb cut off her rambling. “Get him a glass of water.”

Without wasting a single moment, Jeyne threw open the door and flung herself out in the walkway, leaving both Stark boys to watch after her vanishing form, one in amusement and the other in diminishing anger that had since begun turning into confusion.

Looking at his brother, Jon tilted his head in the direction of the door, “What’s up with her?”

“Don’t you know, hero boy?” Robb snorted; his voice amused. “Poole thinks you saved her from grievous injury, an injury that you obtained as a result, although it seems to me that you were more culpable for what happened than she.” His eyes narrowed, a glint of interest appearing, “Now, what had you in such a hurry that you would entirely disregard your surroundings? Jeyne may have said it happened too fast, but we both know that reflexes like yours, you should have seen her coming from a league away. Since you didn’t, obviously something occur to make you off-balance, and I want to know what it was.”

“Poole.” Jon growled once more.

Robb tilted his head, confused, “Jeyne?” After observing Jon’s small shake of his head, his eyes brightened in comprehension, “Ah, Vayon. You had lessons with him before the incident occurred, did you not? And what did he say to disturb you so?”

Jon’s nostrils flared, “I’m sure you remember all of our talks of preparing for war, aye?”

Robb nodded his head as he leaned against the wall, “Aye, that’s why you went out to buy a fully tailored set of armor yourself, you knew that father wouldn’t get you one of such quality, but you wanted one nonetheless.”

Jon stuck his nose in the air, “Our father’s all-knowing Steward thinks that he knows our lord-father better than we do, and as such, he believes that if such a war to occur, be it against the Wildings or those exiled Targaryen’s, he would condemn us to stay at Winterfell, far away from the war.”

Robb raised an eyebrow, “You think he wouldn’t?”

“Of course not! He-” As Jon was about to launch himself into a rant to defend his thought process, he realized that Robb did not seem surprised by what he had said, much less angered by it. Jon’s head twisted to look him in the eye, “You agree with the Steward?”

Robb let out a dry chuckle, “There’s a reason that he and his ancestors have been chosen to faithfully be our Stewards over the past several generations, right Jon? They didn’t become our Stewards because they were dumb steaming piles of shit, but rather because they’re remarkably capable of giving good advice. Our coffers have only grown under their stewardship, you know this as well as I do, Jon.”

Jon crossed his arms as he huffed, “It still doesn’t mean he isn’t a dumb stealing pile of shit.”

Robb chortled as he slapped his knee, “Of course not, brother. In any case, glad to see nothing up there was too damaged by that fall, so I’ll leave you under Lady Jeyne’s tender care.”

As Robb strolled out of the room, Jon couldn’t hold back a snort, “Tender care, right.”

As the door closed behind his brother, Jon leaned back onto the pillows with a sigh, trying to distract his mind from his father’s stupid steward. As he roamed his thoughts, he suddenly remembered his dream, and immediately blushed.

For all of his experience with Ros, Jon had only seen one woman naked, and as blessed as she was by the Old Gods, the women in his dreams were all either equally or far more blessed than Ros, who was herself one of the most beautiful women in Winterfell.

Feeling his erection beginning to throb, Jon slowly directed his hand to slip under his breeches and grasp onto his fully hardened erection with a soft exhale of relief. Unable to stoke the full length and consumed by the thoughts of the women in his dream, Jon pushed the blankets that swaddled him off, and allowing his lower region to be met with the blissful temperature of the room.

Closing his eyes, he tried to recreate the visions of beauty that he had seen, for their precise features he had never seen and what he had seen was fading away by the minute.

Unfortunately for Jon, he wouldn’t be able to think about them for long as the door opened without warning as Jeyne announced, “I’m back with the- by the Gods!”

Startled by the noise and her sudden appearances, Jon’s eyes shot open to see Jeyne’s own eyes locked onto his fully exposed, fully hardened, cock, and a dark thought began to emerge in his head.

Vayon had been the one to put him in this mess, so it was only right that his daughter should be the one to clean it up for him.

Jon suddenly noticed that in her distracted state, Jeyne had left the door wide open, allowing any passerby that just so happened to walk back the infirmary would be able to see the situation, and the last thing Jon needed was for rumors of Jon defiling his lord father’s steward to spread all over the castle, true as Jon hoped it might be in the future. Nonetheless, he barked, “Shut the door, woman!”

Immediately, Jeyne leaped to obey his commands, and Jon couldn’t help but compare her own obedience to how Ros behaved during their last, and perhaps final, meeting. Without even thinking about what he had said, they had instantly listened, and Jon was beginning to wonder how far it would go.

Jon grunted, “Come here.”

Although her movements were slower this time, Jeyne still abided by his wishes, although part of the reason could be attributed to the fact that Jeyne’s eyes had not moved once off of his dick, making it difficult for Jeyne to navigate her way around the bed.

As she came to a stop next to the bed, she softly whispered, “Are they all that big?” before realizing that she spoke such a question aloud, making her cheeks flush red.

Jon sniggered but shrugged nonetheless, “I’m honestly not sure, it’s not as if I compare sizes with the other men around the castle.”

Jeyne absently nodded as if pondering a deep philosophical question, but Jon suspected that what truly was on her mind was something that she could see right in front of her, if her head slightly leaning forwards closer to his hips was any indicator of his thoughts.

Jon gestured as his proudly standing tool, “You can touch it, if you want.”

Jeyne monetarily faltered, “But my womanhood…”

Jon waved his hand as if it was of no concern, “It’s not as if men save their first experience until after they are wed, and most men would probably prefer someone who was better in bed than a true maiden.” Seeing Jeyne’s resistance begin to crumble, he added, “Besides, who’s going to know? I won’t tell anyone, and so as long as you don’t-”

Before Jon could finish his statement, Jeyne started leaning over the bed, her chest mashing up against his legs as she lowered her head directly next to his erection, allowing her to get a very close look at his manhood.

Seeing her hands shake on her sides, he prompted, “You can touch if you’ll like.”

Slowly, Jeyne raised her arms, extending them one at a time to grasp onto his dick, her cold hands making him groan in pleasure. However, Jeyne instantly backed away, her eyes filling with fear, “Oh no! Did I hurt you?”

Shaking his head, Jon replied, “No, Jeyne, it just felt good. Don’t stop.”

Emboldened by his response, Jeyne resumed putting her hands around his mighty length, this time expecting to hear Jon’s soft hiss, and immediately noticed that her small, dainty hands were just barely able to wrap around it, but didn’t know what to do know.

Well aware that this was her first time, Jon said, “Now start rubbing your hands up and down, slowly.” As Jeyne did so, cautiously stroking the massive member in front of her face, Jon absently added, “And if you’re really willing to learn, you could also put your mouth around it.”

“My mouth?” Jeyne replied, darting between his dick and his face, galled at the suggestion as she shook her head, “There’s no way it could fit.”

Jon shrugged, “I know most women could, but you’re still young and inexperienced, so it makes sense that you wouldn’t be able to do it anyways.”

Jeyne gained a defiant look in her eyes as she resolutely stared, “What do I need to do?”

Concealing his smirk, Jon raised an eyebrow, “I’ve never tried to suck my own cock before, but I imagine you just put your lips around it and bob your head.” As Jeyne slowly maneuvered her head closer to his lower head, Jon added, “Also make sure you breath through your nose, lest you not be able to breath at all.”

Holding his length directly in front of her lips, Jeyne instinctively darted her tongue out, licking the rough skin of the head capping it off, leading to a pleased groan from Jon, “That’s it, Jeyne. That’s a good girl.”

Blushing because of his praise but not desiring to stop, Jeyne opened her lips and began to descend upon Jon’s dick, guiding the first two inches into her mouth before she began to choke. As Jeyne reeled backwards, Jon instructed, “It’s a normal reaction, you just have power through.”

Trusting in his words, Jeyne lowered her lips once more, this time getting a few more inches, but then paused, if Jeyne forgot what to do. Noticing such, Jon said, “Bob your head up and down, but not all the way up. When giving a blowjob, you always want a part inside of your mouth, understand?”

Jeyne murmured an affirmative around the cock inside of her mouth, sending vibrations alongside Jon’s length as he let out a deep moan, and instinctively moved one of his hands to grasp onto Jeyne’s long, brunette hair.

Not stopping her bobbing action, Jeyne seemed unfazed by the hand now grasping onto her long, curly locks, entirely consumed by the thought of bringing Jon pleasure, a task that she seemed to be succeeding in.

After a few minutes of Jeyne sucking Jon’s cock, she appeared to be stonewalled by the seventh inch or so, but it wasn’t until Jon took control that she accomplished her mission of going all the way. Having realized that his release was almost upon him, Jon had shifted in the bed and brought his second hand around Jeyne’s head before pushing her farther down.

Unmindful of her mouth choking around him, Jon continued pressing down until Jeyne’s nose was buried in his pubescent hairs, entirely focused on her innocent, doe-like eyes looking up at him. Thrusting his hips, Jon let out a sigh of relief as he discharged his load into the back of Jeyne’s throat as he began to withdraw his cock, freshly glistening in a mix of Jeyne’s saliva and his own cum.

Gasping for air and his releases dribbling out of her mouth, Jon was expecting a scolding for having denied her air for several moments, but instead Jeyne to be delighted, “That was her amazing!” she said, her eyes glowing with excitement. “What else can we do?”

Jon smirked, “Oh, there’s so much we could do, my beautiful little girl.” Noticing that she still had all of her clothes on, he visibly looked down, “But not really much else with those clothes on.”

Although having just deepthroated Jon’s cock, Jeyne seemed bashful as she began to strip out of her clothes, leaving her only in her white undergarments, her arms protectively clutched around her small chest.

Jon surveyed her with an approving nod, “Now, I suppose it’s time for me to return the favor.” His voice deepened. “Get on the bed.” Jeyne scrambled to take his place on the infirmary bed, while Jon in turn moved the end of the bed where her legs were at.

Locking eyes with Jeyne, Jon pried her legs open and ducked his fingers under her waistband and began to slowly pull down, exposing her glistening womanhood, and allowing Jon to note that there was only minimal hair surrounding it, indicating that she had shaven just a few days ago.

“Wh-” Jeyne stuttered. “What are you doing?”

Jon looked up with a smile, “It’s a little something known as the Lord’s Kiss.”

Without waiting to explain any further, Jon lowered his mouth and began to explore Jeyne’s pussy with his tongue, all the while having his eyes still fixed on Jeyne’s.

As his tongue began swirling, licking around Jeyne’s insides enthusiastically, he observed as Jeyne let out a loud moan, leading Jon to temporarily pause as he said, “Shhhhh, you need to keep quiet.”

Jeyne clamped her right hand over her mouth as she nodded, and Jon resumed, he could still hear Jeyne’s moans, but they were at least, hopefully, muffled to the point where no one could hear them.

His mouth full, Jon mumbled into her pussy, “Hm, such a good girl you’re being for me, Jeyne.”

Although Jeyne was unlikely to understand what he was saying, it didn’t stop her body from greedily jerking, trying to dig his mouth deeper into her vaginal tunnel, leading Jon to raise an eyebrow, “You want more, Jeyne?”

Jeyne eagerly nodded, but Jon clicked his tongue, “I need you say it, Jeyne. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Jeyne shivered, her pussy pleading for more, but all Jeyne could say was, “More! More!”

“More what?” Jon questioned, the corners of his mouth quirking up, “More distance? More waiting? More what?”

Jeyne let out a muffled shriek, “I need more of your tongue!”

Jon grinned as he started to lean forward, jerking his cock to beat against her creamy white thighs, “You want more tongue, or do you want something a little bit longer?”

“Anything!” Jeyne desperately moaned, her pussy practically begging for the release that had been denied to her, “Anything you want, Jon, it’s all yours!”

“All mine?” He repeated, playfully tapping his chin as he left Jeyne waiting just a little bit longer. “Well, if it’s my choice, I think it’s time we get into the main event.”

Jon eased the tip of his cock into the sweltering, moist hole without a further delay, and instantly Jeyne started to convulse, her body unaccustomed to the pleasure. Understanding the experience, although not directly, Jon hesitated for several moments as Jeyne came back to her senses, and then nudged a few more inches inside of her, prompting Jenye to convulse once more, but this time for a shorter duration as her body gradually became accustomed to the monster of a cock that Jon had injected inside her.

Wrapping her arms and legs around Jon’s body, Jeyne pleadingly looked up at Jon’s hovering face her, “Please, I can’t take all this waiting. Faster, Jon, move faster!”

Jon nodded in understanding, but he also knew something she didn’t; he couldn’t go any further without taking her maidenhead.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “Your maidenhead-”

“I don’t care anymore!” She screeched. “Take it, Jon! It’s yours!”

Jon saw the eagerness in her eyes, and nodded his head, thrusting to add just a little extra power, and allowing Jon to easily conquer the daughter of the Steward of Winterfell’s pussy.

The vengeful part of Jon that was still furious with Vayon Poole was practically preening as he accomplished his mission of ruining Vayon’s daughter for any other man, but the more thoughtful side of Jon was disappointed in himself for tainting such an innocent girl because of his actions.

Needless to say, the vengeful part won out, but even he was careful enough to wait for Jeyne to recover from losing her maidenhead before resuming.

When the time came however, Jon resumed his thrusting with a passion, his thrusts smacking his hips against Jeyne’s rapidly turning pink thighs, the noise echoing throughout the room alongside the squelching sounds of his cock sliding deeper and deeper into Jeyne’s virgin pussy.

Noticing Jeyne’s throaty moans were only getting louder, Jon lowered his chest to kiss Jeyne on the lips, muffling her sounds of pleasure once more. Swallowing her moans as he ravaged her pussy, Jon’s tongue demanded entrance into Jeyne’s mouth, and Jeyne didn’t even put up a fight, earnest welcoming Jon into any hole that he wished.

After a few moments, Jeyne’s eyes contorted as she grew closer and closer, and she could only twist as her body became overloaded with ecstasy for the first time in her young life, but it wouldn’t be the last.

Squealing as she reached her first orgasm, Jon refused to stop, thrusting without remorse against the torrent of juices that were trying to flee Jeyne’s tunnel, sending them flying as they exploded outwards.

Her brain beginning to melt, her hands clawing into Jon’s back, and her pussy being stretched to its limits and then some, Jeyne could only relax bonelessly into the bed as she became ruined for any other man, and Jeyne didn’t grieve it for a second.

How could she, when Jon was giving her pleasure beyond her wildest dreams?

The simple answer: she couldn’t, not with Jon’s shaft still continuing to defile her insides, and likely not afterwards either.

Her nubile body writhing as it reached her second ever orgasm, Jeyne let out a shrill cry, muffled as it still was by Jon’s mouth still plundering her own, her body entirely spent as it began the process of shutting down.

Fighting to stay conscious, Jeyne innocently pleaded, “Breed me, Jon, give me your children!”

Not even comprehending her words, wrapped in his own pleasure as he was, Jon’s thrusts reached a sense of urgency as he reached his own second climax of the day, painting the inside of her virgin pussy white, just as Jeyne had pleaded.

As his wits came back to him and Jeyne’s own faded into oblivion, Jon began to process her words, leading his eyes to widen. Observing Jeyne’s body having been fucked by him into unconsciousness, Jony could only say, “Er, what?”

---

Women seen in Jon’s dream.

Unknown Woman #1

Unknown Woman #2

Unknown Woman #3

Unknown Woman #4

Unknown Woman #5

Unknown Woman #6

Unknown Woman #7

Unknown Woman #8

(Totally) Unknown Woman #9

Notes:

1: I did abide by the fact that a lot of you wanted to see Jon being fully decked out in armor, although I don't have any artwork of it yet. Let's just go with Jon's previous armor (Just a chestplate) was given to him by Ned Stark, as I still stand by saying that a suit of armor is relatively expensive.
2: I did want to have some type of overall goal in regards to how this story would progress, and this is what I thought of. The tags should have made it evident that this is eventually going to be a ‘Jon has a harem’ story, so if that kind of thing prevents you from reading further, no one’s stopping you from leaving. Now, the nine women pictured above are going to be the main members of Jon’s harem, but I don’t want to spoil the identities of the women just yet, although some (*cough* *unknown woman #9* *cough*) are easily identifiable, but others may be less so. It is also important to note that several liberties were taken in the design, and two of them are original characters, although both families they come from (hint) are known in canon. I will say that I didn’t just pick them randomly; there was a reason as to why all of them were selected. I will also say that not all of them are listed in the tags. Good luck!
Hint: There may or not be a clue as to the order of the women ; ).

Chapter 3: Jeyne & Sansa

“I didn’t know you wanted children so badly that you were practically begging to be bred when you are only four and ten.”

Giving her lover a hearty blush, Jeyne, still rattled from the experience of losing her maidenhead, softly replied, “I mean no offense milord, but you have never once willingly engaged in conversation with myself in all of our years here at Winterfell, so you didn’t know what I wanted.”

Pausing for a moment, Jon reflected that Jeyne was more than accurate with her words. The only people that Jon willingly interacted with was his brother and sisters, father, Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, and, unknown to Jeyne, most recently Ros.

Sure, he exchanged courtesies with the guards, servants and visitors to Winterfell, but that was only really because it was what proprietary demanded of him, or more accurately what his father demanded of him.

Trueborn he may not be, but he was still a son of Winterfell, and it did come with responsibilities.

Jon had quickly realized under Maester Luwin that he was good at political warfare, better than elder brother, but Jon didn’t have the patience that would’ve made him a master, much to Luwin’s dismay. Luwin was no expert on politics himself, but he was a deft hand at it, and between him and Steward Poole, they were able to be the guiding hand behind his Lord Father’s actions, such as revamping the Night’s Watch to fold it back under Northern Rule.

The Night’s Watch had been deteriorating ever since the Targaryen Conquerors had established the Night’s Watch as an independent agency, and it only worsened once Jaehaerys I, supposedly the wisest of all the Targaryen Kings, had oh so benevolently given the Watch the New Gift.

For wise as his actions were below the Neck, they were looked upon with scorn above it, and the Starks of Winterfell had never been able to reclaim the territory back under their fold, despite Jacaerys Velaryon, Heir of Rhaenyra Targaryen, having sworn that the New Gift would be return if Cregan the Hungry Wolf fought for his mother’s cause.

Cregan fought in the Dance of the Dragons, obliterating every remaining piece of resistance to Rhaenyra’s claim, and the Hungry Wolf had won. He had even been able to input himself as Hand of Aegon III Targaryen, but it was a role he only served in for hours before receiving news of the newest King Beyond the Wall.

He had convinced Aegon III to return the New Gift to him upon his majority and Kingship, but it would be deal ignored once more as Cregan would lose his life at the Wall, and Aegon III would be convinced to not return the New Gift as his very first action as King by the bloodsucking leeches of the South that sat upon his court.

Rickon Stark, son of Cregan Stark, had been so disgusted back by the betrayal that he sworn that no Stark would ever trust the word of a Targaryen so long as the slight remained unaddressed, and so decades passed before the Stark’s would go south of the Neck.

During his lessons and innate sense of politics, it had been easy for Jon to deduce what his grandfather, Rickon Stark, had been planning.

A coup of the Targaryen Regime that had oppressed the North for centuries.

Rickon arranged a betrothal with their closest neighbors, the Riverlands, between his heir and the eldest daughter of Hoster Tully, a fostering in the Eyrie of his spare son under the Lord Paramount of the Vale, a betrothal between his only daughter and the future Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, and had come so close to tying it all together by almost betrothal the second daughter of Hoster Tully to the eldest son of Tywin Lannister.

It was the most ambitious move that a Stark had conducted in centuries, and it had cost him.

The Mad King’s council had supposedly forewarned him of Rickon’s actions, and named Jaime Lannister to his Kingsguard at the Tourney of Harrenhal where his betrothal to Lysa Tully was meant to be announced.

Perhaps if he had known that such an action would later cost him his life, the Mad King probably wouldn’t have done so.

Or perhaps he still would have.

The Mad King wasn’t exactly sane in his final years, but Jon still had doubts that he was ever truly sane.

Without the wealth of the Westerlands, the alliance became a little unbalanced, but Rickon had tried to act to shore it up in his final months. He had encouraged a betrothal between his second son and the eldest daughter of the Daynes, but had never been able to do more than suggest before he had received word that his daughter had been kidnapped by the Heir to the Iron Throne, and his eldest son was in pursuit.

Rickon had immediately began his trek south, unknowing that it would be his final actions, for as soon as he arrived in the Red Keep, the Mad King had thrown a farce of a trial that resulted in the slow execution of Jon’s grandfather and eldest uncle, both of them perishing long before Jon was born, before the Mad King ordered the heads of Jon’s father and Robert Baratheon, and everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew how that played out.

Jon’s Lord Father, Jon Arryn, and Robert Baratheon would call their banners, but Hoster Tully would refuse to act, needing both of his daughters wed to secure their alliance, and Jon’s father and Jon Arryn had been wed mere moons later.

After moons of war, Robert’s Rebellion would come to a head as the allied forces of the Targaryen’s and the rebel forces of the North, Vale, and Stormlands converged in the Riverlands, and Rhaegar Targaryen would be slain upon the Ruby Ford.

Knowing that their war was basically over, the rebel forces would march to King’s Landing where the Westerland’s were waiting, but they were too late.

Tywin Lannister would lead the Sack of King’s Landing, ordering the murder of Elia Martell, Rhaenys Targaryen, and Aegon Targaryen, and the Mad King would be stabbed in the back by the sole remaining Kingsguard in the Red Keep: Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer.

Despite everything that the Mad King and the Mad Prince, not to mention the Targaryen’s in general, had done to his family, Jon could still feel a shred of pity for the innocent children and wife of the Mad Prince, but then he would remember the fate of his aunt, Lyanna Stark.

She would go on to perish in the sands of Dorne, sequestered to die along by three of the most honorable men in all of Westeros: the White Bull, Ser Gerold Hightower, the Black Bat, Ser Oswold Whent, and, most famous of all, the Sword of the Moring, Ser Arthur Dayne, and it was upon learning this that Jon had known that no knight of the South could ever be trusted.

To this day, Jon, Robb, and basically everyone that wanted to know were unaware how his Lord Father and his most trusted bannermen were able to slay three of the mightiest Kingsguard to ever live, but his Lord Father refused to answer, saying that it deserved to be buried in the past just as his sister was.

Jon’s Lord Father’s childhood friend would ascend to the Iron Throne by Right of Blood and by Right of Conquest, and Lord Stark would return to Winterfell with the measly prize of his sister’s bones, his family almost entirely shattered as Jon’s Uncle Benjen would leave for the Wall shortly after.

It would take years for Jon’s Lord Father to recover from the burden of the Rebellion, and he would privately admit that he would have handled the conflict with the Tully’s in a much different manner if he had been his right mind, but the past was written, and it could not be changed.

Jon shook his head as he noticed Jeyne cautiously observing him as if prepared to be scolded for backtalking to the son of a High Lord, and Jon realized that he had spent several minutes traversing history in the wake of losing his thoughts.

“You’re right, Jeyne.” Jon admitted with a sigh. “Truthfully, I’ve never been one for social gatherings, that’s always been Robb.”

Jeyne minutely raised an eyebrow, “Is it that Lord Robb enjoys social gatherings, or is he merely held to a much higher standard?”

Jon was about to reply in the former, but stopped himself at the last moment with a frown.

Jon had always been allowed to slack off, but Robb hadn’t.

Robb was the future Warden of the North, and he couldn’t afford to compromise his budding relationships with his bannermen, and so Robb had been forced to excel in every single area of his teachings, no matter how much he disliked them.

It was then that Jon realized what a bad brother he had been to Robb over the years by foisting even more of the pressure onto him instead of even partially bearing a portion of the burden, but no, Jon had abandoned Robb to shoulder it all on his lonesome.

It probably wasn’t just Robb too, Jon began to outwardly gape to the confusion of Jeyne.

He had also ended up neglected Sansa and Arya for the majority of their lives as well by pushing himself in the ways of the Northern warrior, no matter how much they had begged him to play with them more often, because he had thought that he had known better.

Jon collapsed back onto the bed, staring blankly at the roof above him, “I’ve been a terrible brother, haven’t I?”

Jeyne slithered next to him with a smirk on her face, “I think I know how you can make it up to Sansa at least.”

It was Jon’s turn to turn and raise an eyebrow, confused, “What do you mean.”

Jeyne let out a soft, feminine laugh, “You really do know nothing, Jon Snow.” She moved to whisper in his ear, “Sansa has had a crush on you ever since she was a child.”

Jon reeled, “She’s my sister!”

“Half-sister, if you really want to be accurate.” Jeyne corrected before shrinking back at Jon’s glare. “Um, what I meant to say, was…”

Jon shook his head, very unamused, “You think the best way I can make it up to my sister for ignoring her when we were younger is to fuck her? What type of stupid idea is that?”

Jeyne shrugged as she began to stretch out her muscles, “It was only a suggestion.”

“Aye, a suggestion I am never going to listen to.”

---

“I can’t believe I’m listening to her hare-brained suggestion.” Jon scowled as he began to walk in the direction of Winterfell’s Springs, the most common place one would look at in order to find Sansa Stark. “If she’s wrong and Sansa tells Father I tried to rape her, my life may as well be over.” He let out a heavy sigh, unknowing of a curious set of eyes that locked onto him and curiously followed his path. “I swear, I’m going to fucking haunt her forever if this is how my life ends.”

Jeyne had oh so graciously informed Jon that she and Sansa spent every other night relaxing in the Springs when everyone else had begun to settle down for the night, and that was when they were able to do such things that they would not be able to do in polite company, such as confessing their crush on their brother.

According to Jeyne’s very amused recanting of their numerous nights spent there, there wasn’t a single day that went by that Jon wasn’t mentioned, and Jon honestly wasn’t sure to feel about it.

On the one hand, he was disgusted. The only house in Westeros that had ever practiced sibling to sibling marriage was the Targaryen’s, and everyone knew how that ended up going to them. Most people condemned incest in general, but any learned man, such as Jon and Maester Luwin, were aware that almost every house interbred with every arranged marriage.

Jon’s own grandfather had been married to his first cousin, Tywin Lannister married his own first cousin, and there were plenty more, and that was without discussing what occurred in Dorne.

On the other hand, this wasn’t marriage, it was just a one-time thing. Not that it made it right what he was considering doing, but even he could admit that there were worse prospects than his sister to take to bed.

Just the very thought of her stirred something dark inside of Jon, and it made him very concerned that that part of him had been very active in a lot of his most recent sexual encounters, and he didn’t think it was a coincidence that they happened to be the instances where he became the most dominating.

The final encounter with Ros in the Wintertown Brothel, the first encounter with Jeyne in the Winterfell Infirmary…

When was it going to stop?

Was it ever going to stop?

Who was he going to go after next?

Jon closed his eyes for a moment in an attempt to shove away his dark thoughts, but what filled them were images of Sansa, and Jon wasn’t sure which was better.

Jon heard the faint sound of splashing and feminine voices in the distance, and Jon knew that he was close.

Was he really considering the idea of having sex with his own sister?

Jon let out a sigh as he hung his head, “Father is so going to kill me if he finds out.”

He wanted to make it up to his sisters, and if this was what Sansa wanted, then so be it.

He just hoped whatever happened wouldn’t destroy their relationship in its entirety.

Of course, he also prayed that Sansa wouldn’t go straight to their father to order his execution, but she wouldn’t do that.

At least, so Jon desperately hoped, now being forced to face the fact that he had not known his little sister as well as he thought.

Jon paused as the springs came into view, and the figures of Jeyne and Sansa became quickly noticeable to him, and softly let out a gasp. He had obviously been presented with the naked form of Jeyne before, but seeing his sister in just her undergarments wading around the spring, her skin moist from the recent exposure to the water and the moon reflecting off of her skin…

Jon thought that he had scarcely seen a more beautiful sight, and the dark part of him that Jon had tried so desperately to suppress came roaring once more, and this time, Jon didn’t bother to fight it.

Having expected his presence sooner than later, Jeyne was the first to spot his frozen frame, and true to her, immediately began to blush. Slightly confused by the sudden silence and blush in her best friend, Sansa turned to scold whoever dared interrupt the daughter of Lord Stark, only to become similarly frozen as she quickly recognized the man standing in front of her.

Jon Snow.

Her half-brother.

The man Jeyne admitted to sleeping with mere minutes ago.

The man of her dreams.

Sansa began blushing herself as her eyes began to make their way down Jon’s muscled teenage body, and instantly stopped as she noticed a bulge in the upper region of Jon’s breeches.

It seemed ever larger than what Jeyne had claimed, and to think Sansa had doubted her brother’s size.

Her blush increasing in tone, Sansa stammered, “J-J-Jon… what- what are you doing here, so late?”

Shaking his head, Jon locked eyes with her as she replied, “Jeyne invited me.”

“Did she now…” Sansa muttered as she fixed her best friend with a glare for having to neglected to mention that her half-brother, and secret crush, to their private get together. Sansa desperately scrambled to get a hold of herself as she turned to give Jon a fixed smile. “Well, you’re welcome to join us and make yourself comfortable, Jeyne and I were just catching up.”

Sansa visibly had to tear her sight back to fact Jeyne as Jon nodded and began to take off his shirt, but Sansa practically had to beg with her eyes for Jeyne to say something.

After giving her a small wink, Jeyne gave her mercy as she resumed their conversation regarding the various news that filtered into Winterfell from around the North and Seven Kingdoms.

Sansa intently listened as Jeyne reported that were reportedly an increase in the severity of attacks upon the Wall, Shireen Baratheon being partially cured of Greyscale, and a variety of other morsels of information, but Sansa still found her gaze drifting off to Jon every few seconds, who had calmly placed himself equidistant between her and Jeyne, and according to the mirth in Jeyne’s eyes, she was not being the least bit inconspicuous.

If Jon didn’t notice her constant side-eyes, which Sansa doubted was the case, he clearly didn’t mind the attention being lavished upon him, and it began to make Sansa curious.

Why had he come here?

Why had Jeyne invited him?

Sansa let out a minute gasp as she resolutely started at Jeyne in disbelief.

Did Jeyne tell him of her crush?

Had he come to tell her that her feelings for him were sinful?

Sansa felt a small flower of hope begin to bloom inside her chest.

Or did he feel the same?

Sansa couldn’t know for certain, and so long as she was, she couldn’t bring herself to act, lest she drive her big brother away from her forever.

Arms resting on the bank as the rest of his body sprawled out in the water, Jon started up into the sky as he practically mirrored Sansa’s concern.

Luckily for the two, there was a single individual that was not only aware of their attraction to one another, but was also aware that neither would dare to act on it themselves and was also present, and Jeyne had tired of the two siblings dancing around each other.

Jeyne splashed a wave at Sansa in the middle of her speaking, leading to Sansa to let out a high-pitched shriek and Jon to instantly open his eyes, thinking that Sansa had somehow gotten herself injured, only to see Sansa and Jeyne engaged in some type of water fight.

Developing a smirk on her face, Jeyne slowly began to move in a circle around the hot spring, forcing Sansa to do the same in order to maintain some distance between them, only for Sansa to be so focused on Jeyne that she stumbled upon an uneven shift in the base of the spring, making Sansa let out a squeal as she began to fall backwards.

Although unconsciously aware that Sansa was in no danger of being harmed, with the possible exception of her pride, Jon saw his sister begin to fall and instantly began to move into action, just as Jeyne had wished to happen. Jon circled around Sansa with both hands as they grasped onto her firm stomach in order to stabilize her, but not before Jon had gotten too close. Close enough for Jon’s pelvis to rub against Sansa’s scantily clad backside, and unfortunately for Jon, he had not been able to regulate his erection ever since he had settled himself into the hot spring.

Sansa let out a surprised squeal as she felt Jon’s pelvis rub against her from behind, and instantly her eyes widened in surprise and arousal.

Had Jon actually been attracted to her all along? Had the broody nature of her brother hidden his feelings to such a degree?

On the other side, Jon let out a grunt as his near fully erect cock, tempted by the half-dressed visages of Sansa and Jeyne for the past several minutes, slid against his sister’s fleshy bum; a grunt that he was relatively confident that had not been as suppressed as he would have liked.

Maintaining her foot, Sansa swirled around, locking her arms around Jon’s taller shoulders and looking upwards into her brother’s smoldering eyes, and allowing Sansa to very easily notice as Jon’s eyes slid down to her handful sized breasts before shooting back to her eyes, hoping that she had not seen his wandering eyes, but his hopes were in vain.

“Jon…” Sansa muttered softly, her chest steadily pressing closer to Jon’s and allowing her to rub her own pelvis against Jon’s, letting her experience the hardened length of Jon’s erection once more.

“Sansa…” Jon rumbled as he gazed into his younger sister’s eyes which were begging for Jon to make the first move.

If this had been the same Jon as a few weeks past, Sansa’s desires would have been left unfulfilled, but luckily for Sansa, it wasn’t.

Jon lowered his head to crash his lips against his sisters, leading Sansa to close her eyes in bliss as she gratefully accepted Jon’s advances, and they both realized the truth at the same time.

Contrary to what they may have previously thought, the pair of siblings both wanted this to happen, and now nothing short of their father’s arrival could stop them, and fortunately for them, Lord Stark had long since taken his sleep for the night. With only one witness to their actions, or so they thought, and that one girl having engineered the circumstances behind their actions, Jeyne sure wasn’t going to stop them, as she was practically purring as her long-time best friend and recent lover finally came together as she hoped they would.

As Jon and Sansa began to deepen their lip lock, Jon lowered his hands to grasp onto Sansa’s bum and raised it upwards, and although initially startled by the action, Sansa reflexively locked her long legs around Jon’s hips, sealing Jon’s erection between Sansa’s creamy white thighs.

Letting out a giggle as she looked down at their conjoined hips, Sansa said, “It looks like someone is excited.”

Jeyne snorted as she moved to wade closer to the siblings, “You haven’t seen anything yet, Sans. Just you wait until its inside you!”

Noticing the strain in his breeches, Sansa let out a fearful gasp, “You can’t think it’s going to fit in there!”

Jon tightened his grasp as he looked down at Sansa, “You can, Sansa, and you will.”

Sansa and Jeyne let out a simultaneous shiver at Jon’s low, commanding tone before the former softly said, “What do I need to do, brother?”

Jon tilted his head at Jeyne as he lowered Sansa back to her feet, “Jeyne can show you everything you need to do Sansa. She’s got plenty of experience at this point.” With that, Jon moved over to the bank of the spring and began to make himself comfortable as he waited for the two girls to follow him.

Jeyne wrapped an arm around Sansa as she prompted her forwards, whispering, “You’re going to be fine, Sans. Trust me, you’re going to love it.”

Sansa could take her eyes off of the bulge as she whispered back, “I trust you, Jey.”

Jeyne gave Sansa a supportive smile as they waded together towards their newfound lover, and together they began to pull down Jon’s last remaining article of clothing, and exposing his veiny, throbbing erection to the teen girls, and leaving both awestruck by the sheer size, for even Jeyne was still amazed.

However, Jeyne’s familiarity led to her wrapping a hand around the base of Jon’s cock first, guiding one of Sansa’s hands to do the same, but even then, a good portion of Jon’s cock, as well as its head, was left exposed. Jeyne began to slide her hand up and down, prompting Sansa to do the same, explaining as Jon let out a moan, “Although its primary purpose is for procreation, lovemaking doesn’t have to be an entirely painful and boring experience as we were taught, Sans, so you don’t want to rush right into it.”

Once ensuring Jon was fully erect, Jeyne laid her unused hand on the back of Sansa’s head as she began to push down, explaining with a single word, “Suck.”

Captivated, Sansa could only obey, taking the head of Jon’s cock into her mouth without a fight. Although neither Jeyne nor Jon were satisfied with the miniscule portion that she had taken, Jon was content for Jeyne to have her fun at least, the girl eager to show her best friend what she had recently learned. A teasing smile on her face, Jeyne leaned in right next to Sansa’s head to lick the base of Jon’s girth as she instructed Sansa to bob her head, slowly pushing past Sansa’s plump, red lips to take Jon deeper and deeper inside her mouth.

Watching as his little redhead sister took his cock between her lips without a protest, her eyes looking up at him for approval, Jon groaned as he ran a hand through both of the girls’ hair, and, even with his eyes closed, Jon could feel the difference. Sansa’s hair was silky smooth and unbound, his hands easily able to glide through the strands, while Jeyne’s hair was a little rougher, and was also bound in braids descending upon her back that Jon could pull upon at any moment.

With Sansa focused as she was on entirely consuming Jon’s cock, she didn’t even register Jeyne pulling back a little, but she did notice as a pair of fingers began to dig their way underneath Sansa’s undergarments to invade her pussy.

Squealing in surprise, Sansa released Jon’s girth from her mouth as she turned to face her friend, “What are you doing, Jeyne?”

Smirking, Jeyne began to rub the insides of Sansa’s walls as she replied, “We can’t all suck Jon’s cock, Sans, so I found something else to occupy myself with.”

Hissing as his glistening, throbbing cock was exposed to the cold air, Jon raised an eyebrow at Sansa, “Is there a problem, Sansa?”

Blushing as she let out a moan, Sansa slowly shook her head as she leaned in to resume sucking Jon’s cock, “No, big brother.”

Her task slightly impaired by Jeyne’s invigorated fingering of her lower regions, Sansa devoted herself to fully focusing on pleasuring her brother, her moans of pleasure vibrating around Jon’s dick, which only pleasured Jon more, as signified by his own increase in groans.

New as she was to the ways of pleasure, it wouldn’t take long for Jeyne to drive Sansa to her first release, her eyes rolling as her body spasmed as it became overloaded in pleasure and her fluids seeping out between Jeyne’s hands and into the spring.

After licking Sansa’s juices off of her fingers, Jeyne rose back up to take her place next to Sansa’s head, which had since stalled after Sansa’s first mind breaking orgasm and began to stroke the underside of Jon’s cock once more, knowing that he was very close. A few moments later, Sansa began to slowly bob her head once more, unknowing that such an action was just what Jon needed to drive him over the edge.

Sansa let out a squawk as Jon’s cum shot out in her mouth, the first rounds seeping through her lips and falling onto her average sized breasts. Noticing such, Jeyne instructed, “Swallow it, Sans!” as she leaned in to lick the cum that had seeped back onto Jon’s cock.

Sansa did as she was ordered, the salty taste unusual for her, but not disappointing. As Jon’s release end, Sansa withdrew her mouth from her brother’s dick and turned to face Jeyne, only to be taken entirely by surprise as Jeyne launched herself at her lips, Jeyne trying to swallow some of Jon’s cum herself.

Watching as Jeyne pinned Sansa to the walls of the spring, her mouth plundering Sansa’s for any trace of his seed, Jon could feel his erection starting to harden once more as he watched the two girls swap fluids between their lips.

Satisfied with the share that she was able to find, Jeyne pulled back, much to Sansa’s initial dismay, with a smile on her face before resting her head on Sansa’s shoulders, “How do you feel, Sans?”

Sansa giggled as she let out a sigh, “Wonderful, Jeyne. I never dreamed it would feel like this in my wildest dreams.”

Noticing Jon’s erection picking back up, Jeyne let out a giggle of her own, “It’s not over yet, Sans; Jon isn’t quite done with you yet.”

A confused frown covering her face, Sansa swirled her head around before her mouth gaped in surprise, “He’s already ready for more? I thought men-”

Jeyne began to suck on Sansa’s exposed neck, “He’s your brother, Sans, he’s not your average man.”

Sansa let out another moan, her eyes fixated on her brother’s length once more, “What do I do next?”

“Come closer, Sansa.” Jon grinned as Sansa crawled to him out of the spring, her slick, moistened body gleaming in the reflection of the moonlight. Grabbing her with both hands underneath her armpits, he lifted her so that they were face to face, her legs locking into place around his hips.

Looking gently into her eyes, Jon gave Sansa one last chance, “Are you ready, Sansa?”

Whimpering as her pussy brushed up against Jon’s cock, Sansa murmured into Jon’s ear, “Take me, big brother. Make me a woman. Make me your woman.”

His mouth curving into a smirk, Jon felt another set of hands grasp onto his cock, and looked down to see Jeyne directing his cock inside of Sansa’s lower set of lips, recently lubricated by her own release mere minutes ago.

Without hesitating, Jeyne stuck her lover’s cock into his little sisters, and her best friends, pussy, her grin only growing as she heard a pair of moans resonate from above her. Watching as Jon began to thrust his hips back in forth, his cock penetrating deep into Sansa’s pussy, Jeyne flattened her face as moved upwards, her nose burrowing its way into Sansa’s fleshy bum, observing as her fleshy cheeks continuously rippled as an effect of her constant movement.

A few moments later, Sansa let out a shriek as Jon rammed through her womanhood, only to be cut off partly through as Jon moved to muffle her, and lips instantly granting passage to Jon’s tongue as it demanded entry, and she was in no shape to deny him, not that she ever would dare.

Her mouth being pillaged, her pussy quivering as her brother buried himself inside of her vaginal tunnel, and her best friend licking her back hole, Sansa was forced to let out a series of gasps and moans into Jon’s mouth, her body being pleasured more than ever before.

Cracking open her eyes, Sansa was immediately presented with the concentrated look on her big brother’s face, her body softening as she observed the care clearly seen in Jon’s eyes, and she knew this was exactly where she always wanted to be. Distant as he was at times, Jon was always her big brother, and he would always care for her.

This was her place, this was exactly where she belonged, and she had no quarrels about it.

Her body experiencing a burst of pleasure far beyond her first orgasm, Sansa could only convulse as her second release descended upon her, and Sansa could only let out a muffled cry as her juices began to seep out of her cunt and onto Jeyne’s welcoming face, but Jon didn’t stop.

His girth sliding in and out at a blistering face, unburdened by the flood of Sansa’s orgasm, Sansa’s body began to collapse, the only thing holding up her being her brother’s muscles, as her mind began to crumble from the torrent of pleasure that she was experiencing.

It didn’t matter to her that Jon was her brother, it didn’t matter to her that her best friend was watching very closely as her pussy was ruined for all other men, it didn’t matter to her if the Old Gods condemned what they were doing.

How could the Old Gods condemn her when no other man made her feel the same way her big brother did?

It didn’t matter that what they were doing was wrong by the words of society, because all Sansa knew was that giving herself to her brother in a way that she would never for any other man felt right.

She belonged to her brother now, and nothing could change that.

Not the Old Gods, not her mother, not even her Father.

At the thought of her father’s bastard son defiling his prized daughter in the confines of his very own castle, Sansa let out another shriek as her body experienced the third and largest orgasm of her life, her pussy squeezing around her brother’s cock as her hands shivered behind him, her nails dragging along his back as her back began to arch, thrusting her breasts forward and into Jon’s face.

Unfazed by the pain of Sansa clawing up his back, Jon leaned his head in forward to grasp onto one of Sansa’s hardened nipples, and lightly closed his teeth around it, only furthering Sansa’s orgasm.

As Jeyne eagerly gobbled down her best friend’s juices, Jon resolutely planted himself as he felt himself getting closer to the edge, the thought of breeding his little sister’s womb behind his father’s back being his last thought as he thrusted one last time deep into the depths of Sansa’s pussy, his cum exploding harder than it ever had before, and Sansa eagerly welcomed it inside of her as her body shuddered one final time, her inner walls plastered with her brother’s seed.

Observing as Sansa’s body continued to experience tremor, Jon gently grasped onto her hips as he slowly lifted her off of his softening length and lightly laid her on to the grass, a combination of both his and her releases seeping out of her vaginal tunnel, which Jeyne immediately dived to start licking.

Letting a chuckle, Jon shook his head as he watched.

Suddenly, a voice said from behind him, “What do you think you’re doing, Jon?”

Notes:

Uh oh... Jon wasn't as subtle as he thought.

Notes:

I just created a discord server for myself and my stories, so please give me a little patience. If anybody is really curious as to the identities of the unknown women, I'll be updating them there as they are correctly guessed, so if you do check it out, please be ready for spoilers.
https://discord.gg/VFXQbSFVae