Thank You, but could you do more?

"Why?" you ask the Hand's Shield, quite boldly for you. With his earlier comments and your last night still fresh in your mind, you take hold of his arm and hold it to your breasts. He looks... nowhere except your cleavage.

"Well, your son right now rides to a one man manslaughter courtesy of the Mountain." You gasp. Not just at the revelation that Ser Clegane rides in the tourney, but also because the cocky, landless sellsword shifted his arm to cup your cunny through your dress. "Now, if you were in a mood to thank me for telling you this, I won't stop you."

"Thank-you Ser Brom," his rubbing was too expert for your sensitive cunt. You sink down to your knees, your dress failing toncontain your breasts' movement, just lkke yesterday's dress. "And perhaps after, you might choose to help me more." You pull his hardening member out and rest it on you large tits, seeing the hesitant lust in his eyes. He wants you, but doesn't want to risk himself against the Mountain. Brom grimaces, but starts to relent as you wrap your milk jugs around his cock, massaging his length.

"Ok, then you better be something magnificent at gratituuu-" his words are cut away by the suction of your mouth on the tip of his sword. Your work for Littlefinger in King's Landing has made you more than just skilled, you're ashamed to admit you are a little addicted to the issue of men, whether it go down your throat or up your arse or cunny.

The Mountain was a huge monstrous creature in the exaggerated form of a man. A foul creature unlike any other. He had murdered so many people in every place he had been, it was a testamenttonthe wealth and influenceof the Lannisters that he still rode free.

While your lips kissed his tip and your tits warmed his length, you let you hands grasp Ser Brom's sack. You smiled and hummed around his dick when you heard his gasp. Your hands rubbing and playing with his balls.

He had **** but to cum. You released the holdnyour breasts had on him and sank your face down to the base of him, preferring a belly of thick jizz to having to wash and paint your face so soon after preparing for the day.

Some seed does leak into your cleavage as you let his bare sword rest on your tits after. Both of you a little breathless, he strokes your hair and smiles.

"I think I could be convinced to pretend to be your son for a day, for a night with you. I am reasonably skilled and it's only a lack of a good enough offer that I've not put the Mountain in a Funeral Mound." It sounds wonderful. And if he can't back up his skills, then at least it would be him cut to pieces instead of her son.

"I think we have a deal, Ser Brom. Let's be away quickly, so my son can be talked to."