The Lady of Winterfell Felled

You drove into Sansa with long, powerful strokes, savoring how tightly her virgin-tight cunt gripped your thick cock. She was soaking wet despite the initial shock, her walls fluttering and clenching around every inch as you stretched her open. Her full breasts bounced heavily with each thrust, pink nipples stiff and glistening from Gilly’s eager mouth.

“Fuck… Jon…” Sansa moaned, her voice cracking between shame and raw need. Her long legs wrapped around your waist instinctively, pulling you deeper. “It’s so deep… I can feel you in my belly…”

Melisandre watched with glowing crimson eyes, one hand lazily rubbing her massive pregnant belly while the other fingered her own dripping cunt. “That’s it, my king. Claim your Stark bitch. Fill the Lady of Winterfell with dragonseed.”

Gilly pulled her mouth off Sansa’s nipple with a wet pop, strings of milk and saliva connecting her lips to the older girl’s breast. “She’s tighter than I was,” the wildling girl purred, clearly aroused. She reached down and spread Sansa’s pussy lips wider around your pistoning cock, watching it disappear inside her with hungry fascination.

You grabbed Sansa’s hips and fucked her harder, the heavy oak table creaking beneath her. The wet, obscene slap of your balls against her arse filled the hall. Sansa’s head fell back, auburn hair spilling across the wood as she cried out with every deep thrust.

Melisandre waddled closer, her enormous belly brushing against you. She leaned down and captured Sansa’s mouth in a deep, possessive kiss, swallowing the younger woman’s moans while you railed her. When she pulled back, a thin string of spit connected their lips.

“You belong to him now,” Melisandre whispered against Sansa’s ear. “Just like us. Your womb will swell for him soon enough.”

Sansa whimpered at the words, her cunt clamping down hard around your cock. You felt her start to tremble.

Gilly moved to the other side of the table, climbing up so she could straddle Sansa’s face. Her own pregnant belly rested on Sansa’s chest as she lowered her dripping, cum-filled cunt onto the Stark girl’s mouth.

“Lick,” Gilly ordered breathlessly. “Taste what Jon’s seed tastes like.”

Sansa hesitated only a moment before her tongue darted out, licking tentatively at Gilly’s swollen folds. The wildling girl moaned and ground down harder, smearing her pussy over Sansa’s pretty face while you continued pounding her cunt without mercy.

The sight pushed you closer to the edge - your pregnant sluts using your newest conquest together.

You reached forward and pinched Sansa’s swollen clit, rubbing it roughly. She screamed into Gilly’s cunt, her whole body seizing as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. Her walls rippled and milked your cock in long, rhythmic contractions, flooding your shaft with fresh slick.

“Seven hells… she’s cumming so hard,” you growled.

Melisandre laughed softly, still fingering herself. “Good girl. Cum on your king’s cock.”

You didn’t slow down. You fucked Sansa through her orgasm, chasing your own release with deep, brutal strokes. Her tits bounced wildly. Gilly rode her face harder, moaning as Sansa’s tongue worked her clit.

Finally, with a deep groan, you buried yourself to the hilt and came. Thick, heavy ropes of cum erupted straight into Sansa’s womb, pulse after pulse flooding her fertile depths. You kept grinding deep, making sure every drop stayed inside her as her cunt continued to spasm around you.

When you finally pulled out, a thick white trickle of your seed leaked from her well-fucked pussy. Sansa lay there panting, face shiny with Gilly’s juices, eyes glassy with overwhelmed pleasure.

Melisandre smiled serenely, rubbing her own massive belly. “Another vessel claimed. The North will have many heirs soon.”

Gilly climbed off Sansa’s face and immediately dropped down to lick your cum from the Stark girl’s leaking cunt, cleaning her with long, devoted strokes of her tongue.

Sansa looked up at you, flushed and trembling, voice barely a whisper:

“…More, Jon. Please.”

The hall was silent except for the crackling fire and the soft, wet sounds of Gilly’s tongue. Winterfell was yours - and so were its women.