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Author Note: I don’t own Game of Thrones or any characters. I own the story's plot and a few characters, which are my creations.
Summary: Jon Snow may be a Louisiana transplant at Valemont Academy, but he’s still a Southern boy at heart—tattooed, rough-edged, and a star shortstop on the prep school baseball team. When Myrcella Baratheon, the polished daughter of one of Valemont’s most powerful families, catches his eye, sparks fly both on and off the field.
Between high-stakes baseball games, intense rivalries with Hawthorne Academy, and the pressures of elite New York prep-school life, Jon and Myrcella navigate stolen moments of passion, heated flirtation, and the growing tension of their undeniable chemistry. But when ambition, family influence, and old money collide with desire, can two strong-willed young adults balance romance, lust, and loyalty—or will the storm of their attraction consume them?
In the polished halls of Valemont Academy, where old money whispered through marble corridors and manicured lawns, Jon Snow stood out like a storm cloud over a manicured estate. At 6'3", the 18-year-old Louisiana transplant towered over most of his classmates, his broad shoulders straining against the faded flannel shirts he favored.
His buzz cut was hidden under a perpetually greasy ball cap, and a well-trimmed beard framed his square jaw. Ink crawled over his skin in intricate patterns—two full-sleeve tattoos of coiled serpents and thorny roses on his arms, a massive Celtic knot sprawling across his chest, and a snarling wolf etched into his back.
Scars dotted his knuckles from roughhousing back home in northern Louisiana, faint white lines from bar fights and farm work that spoke of a life far removed from Valemont's silver spoons.
He drove a rumbling 1987 F-250, its engine growling like his thick Southern drawl, which turned heads and drew smirks in equal measure.
As the star shortstop on the baseball team, Jon moved with the easy confidence of someone who'd fielded line drives under the bayou sun, but elite prep school life chafed at him.
Still, his genuine loyalty and Southern charm had won over Myrcella Baratheon, the 17-year-old only child of one of Valemont's most powerful families.
Myrcella was a vision of preppy perfection at 5'6", her lithe frame clad in pleated skirts and crisp blouses that hugged her perky C-cup tits. Blonde waves framed her heart-shaped face, and her blue eyes sparkled with a mix of poise and hidden curiosity.
Raised in the spotlight, she balanced family expectations with a budding boldness in private moments.
She'd been dating Jon for weeks, their fooling around escalating in stolen moments—kisses that left her breathless, hands roaming under clothes—but they hadn't gone all the way.
Not yet. Jon's cock was the hurdle. Uncut, over 10 inches long and thick as a wrist, it intimidated her more than excited her at first. Her previous boyfriends had been... adequate, but nothing like this monster.
It was a humid Friday evening in the Baratheon family estate, a sprawling mansion on the edge of Valemont, New York. Jon had snuck in through the back, his boots thudding softly on the Persian rugs as he met Myrcella in her bedroom.
The room screamed privilege—four-poster bed, silk sheets, walls lined with books on etiquette and art history. They tumbled onto the bed, lips crashing together in a hungry kiss. Jon's calloused hands slid up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher, while Myrcella's fingers tangled in his beard, pulling him closer.
"God, Jon, you taste like trouble," she murmured against his mouth, her voice breathy.
He grinned, that Louisiana accent rolling thick. "Darlin', you ain't seen nothin' yet. Been dreamin' 'bout gettin' my hands on these pretty tits all week."
She arched into his touch as he cupped her C-cups through her blouse, thumbs circling her hardening nipples.
Their makeout grew feverish, tongues dueling, wet and sloppy. Myrcella's hand drifted lower, palming the massive bulge in his jeans. She gasped, pulling back slightly. "It's just... so big. Bigger than anyone I've been with. What if it doesn't fit? I don't want it to hurt."
Jon's eyes darkened with lust, but he nodded, kissing her neck softly. "We go slow, cher. Ain't gonna push ya. But fuck, I want you so bad. That tight little pussy wrapped 'round me..."
Unbeknownst to them, Cersei Baratheon lingered in the hallway outside her daughter's door. At 38, she was a force—5'8" of sculpted elegance, her D-cup tits straining against designer blouses, blonde hair cascading in perfect waves. Ambitious and manipulative, she ruled Valemont's social circles with an iron fist wrapped in velvet.
Protective of Myrcella, but jealous too, especially of the rough-edged boy who'd captured her daughter's attention. Cersei's ear pressed to the wood, catching every word. So big, Myrcella had said. Cersei's lips curled into a sly smile. She could help.
Guide her daughter past the fear. And if Myrcella couldn't handle it—if she broke things off—Cersei would be there to claim Jon for herself. The thought sent a illicit thrill through her core, her pussy clenching at the idea of that Southern stud's cock.
The next afternoon, Cersei orchestrated it flawlessly. She invited Jon over under the pretense of a family discussion about his 'suitability' for Myrcella, then cornered them both in the sunlit sitting room overlooking the gardens.
Plush armchairs circled a low coffee table, heavy drapes half-drawn against the afternoon light. Myrcella fidgeted in her sundress, her C-cups rising and falling with nervous breaths, while Jon leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his tattooed chest, cap pulled low.
"Mother, what's this about?" Myrcella asked, eyes wide.
Cersei perched on the edge of a chair, her D-cups accentuated by the deep V of her blouse. "I overheard you two last night. About... his size. Myrcella, darling, fear is natural, but it doesn't have to hold you back. I can help. Show you how to handle it."
Jon's brow furrowed, accent drawling out. "Ma'am, with all due respect, that's between me an' Myrcella."
Myrcella flushed crimson. "Mom, no. That's embarrassing."
But Cersei was relentless, her voice smooth as silk. "Think of it as a lesson. Intimacy requires guidance sometimes. If you back out now, you'll regret it. And Jon... wouldn't you like to see her confident?" She let her gaze linger on his crotch, a subtle promise.
Reluctance hung thick in the air. Myrcella bit her lip, glancing at Jon, who shifted uncomfortably but didn't bolt—his loyalty to her winning out. After tense minutes of persuasion, with Cersei painting vivid pictures of pleasure over pain, they agreed.
The room felt smaller, charged with forbidden energy. Cersei locked the door, drawing the drapes fully, bathing them in soft shadow.
"Start with touching," Cersei instructed, her tone authoritative yet husky. She guided Myrcella to sit on the couch, then turned to Jon. "Show us, Jon. Let her see it properly."
Jon's hands hesitated on his belt, but he unbuckled it, shoving down his jeans and boxers. His uncut cock sprang free—heavy, veined, the foreskin partially retracted over a bulbous purple head already leaking precum.
Over 10 inches of girth, thick as fuck, it throbbed in the air like a weapon. Cersei's eyes widened, a sharp intake of breath. Gods, it's enormous. Shock mingled with excitement, her pussy flooding with heat. She'd bedded powerful men, but this? This was a beast.
"Jesus, darlin', you sure 'bout this?" Jon rumbled, his scarred knuckles flexing.
Myrcella stared, hand over her mouth, but nodded faintly.
Cersei stepped closer, her D-cups brushing his chest as she wrapped manicured fingers around the base. It barely encircled half the thickness.
"Impressive," she purred, stroking slowly, foreskin sliding back to expose the slick head. Jon groaned, his tattooed arms tensing. She dropped to her knees, green eyes locked on his. "Watch closely, Myrcella. This is how you start."
She leaned in, lips parting to kiss the tip, tongue flicking out to lap at the salty precum. Jon's hand fisted in her hair—not roughly, but firm. Cersei sucked the head into her mouth, cheeks hollowing as she worked more in, but the girth stretched her jaw wide. She bobbed, slurping wetly, saliva dripping down the shaft.
"Mmm, so thick... tastes like sin," she murmured around him, pulling off to kiss along the veiny length. But when she tried to deepthroat, pushing down, her gag reflex kicked in hard—throat convulsing, eyes watering as she choked, only managing half before retreating with a cough.
"Fuck, that's... tight," Jon grunted, his accent thickening with arousal.
Myrcella watched from the couch, thighs pressed together, a flush creeping up her neck.
Cersei stood, wiping her mouth, composure cracking with lust. "Enough foreplay. Lie back, Jon." She stripped efficiently—blouse unbuttoned to reveal lacy bra cupping her full D-cups, skirt pooling at her feet.
Her body was toned from yoga and privilege, pussy shaved smooth, already glistening. She pushed him onto the couch, straddling his hips. Myrcella's eyes were glued, breath quickening.
"Mom..." Myrcella whispered, but didn't look away.
Cersei positioned the massive cock at her entrance, rubbing the head against her slick folds. "See? Relax and take it slow." She sank down inch by inch, gasping as the thickness split her open.
"Oh fuck, it's huge... stretching me so wide." Her walls clenched around him, juices coating the shaft. Halfway in, she paused, rocking her hips, D-cups bouncing as she kissed Jon fiercely—tongues tangling, her lipstick smearing on his beard.
Jon gripped her ass, tattoos flexing. "Shit, Mrs. Baratheon, your pussy's grippin' me like a vice. Hotter than I imagined."
She rode him harder, the couch creaking, her gag reflex forgotten in the haze. "Call me Cersei, boy. Fuck me deeper—pound this cunt." Dirty words spilled from her painted lips as she bounced, tits jiggling, the wet slap of skin echoing.
Jon thrust up, his scarred hands roaming her body, pinching her nipples until she moaned. They kissed again, sloppy and desperate, her nails raking his inked chest. Sweat beaded on his buzzed scalp under the cap he'd kept on.
Myrcella squirmed, hand slipping under her dress, but Cersei shot her a look. "Watch. Learn."
Cersei came first, shuddering as her pussy spasmed around his cock, juices squirting down his balls.
"Yes, fill me—cum inside!" Jon roared, hips bucking as he unloaded, thick ropes of cum pumping deep, overflowing and dripping out as she lifted off. She collapsed against him, kissing his neck, tasting salt and ink.
Panting, Cersei slid off, cum trickling down her thigh. "Your turn, Myrcella. Don't be afraid."
Myrcella stood, surprise flickering in her eyes—no fear now, only hunger. At 17, her high sex drive ignited like a fuse. She was a size queen at heart, the sight of her mother wrecked by that cock flipping a switch.
"I can do better," she said boldly, stripping her sundress. Her C-cups were firm, nipples pink and erect, pussy bare and dripping.
Jon sat up, cock still semi-hard, glistening with Cersei's cream. "You sure, babe?"
She knelt between his legs, hands wrapping around the base—easier for her smaller grip. Leaning in, she kissed the head, tongue swirling the foreskin. Then, without hesitation, she swallowed him down
. Inch after thick inch vanished into her throat, no gag, just smooth, eager suction. Her nose brushed his pubes, eyes watering only from effort as she deepthroated the full 10+ inches, cheeks bulging.
Cersei's jaw dropped. "How... you don't have a gag reflex?"
Myrcella pulled off with a pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips. "Never did. Watch this, Mom." She dove back, bobbing fast, throat fucking herself on his cock, gagging sounds absent. Jon groaned, hand in her hair. "Holy shit, girl, that's amazin'. Suck that dick like you own it."
Cersei watched, jealousy twisting in her gut as Myrcella outdid her effortlessly.
Satisfied, Myrcella stood, pushing Jon back. She straddled him reverse, guiding the now rock-hard cock to her pussy. Sinking down, she moaned loud—"Oh god, it's so fucking big, stuffing me full!" No pain, just pure bliss as her walls stretched around the girth, taking every inch until her ass met his thighs.
"Ride me, cher," Jon urged, hands on her hips, thumbs tracing her curves.
She did, bouncing wildly, C-cups jiggling, head thrown back. "Yes, fuck—your cock's ruining me for anyone else. So thick, hitting so deep!"
Dirty talk poured from her, surprising even herself. They kissed over her shoulder, his beard scratching her skin, tongues sloppy. Jon's tattoos flexed as he thrust up, pounding her relentlessly, balls slapping her clit.
Cersei sat nearby, fingers circling her own pussy, but the sight burned—her plan crumbling as Myrcella reveled in it. "Harder, Jon! Pound my little pussy—make me cum on this monster cock!"
He flipped her onto the couch, missionary now, legs over his shoulders. At 6'3", he loomed, driving in deep, the room filling with wet smacks and moans. Myrcella clawed his back, nails digging into the wolf tattoo.
"Cum inside me—fill me up!" Jon obliged, grunting as he erupted, hot spurts flooding her, her own orgasm crashing with screams, pussy milking him dry.
They collapsed, kissing lazily, bodies entwined. Cersei slipped away quietly, her D-cups heaving with frustrated breaths. Her scheme had backfired spectacularly. Myrcella, far from wary, was hooked—a size queen unleashed, her high sex drive now fed by Jon's massive cock.
In the weeks that followed, Cersei endured the sounds from Myrcella's room: bedsprings creaking, moans of ecstasy as Jon pounded her daughter regularly. She loves it, Cersei seethed, alone with her jealousy, knowing she'd unleashed a beast she couldn't tame.
But for Jon and Myrcella, Valemont's shadows hid a new rhythm—nights of filthy, stuffed-full passion, his thick uncut cock claiming her over and over, tattoos glistening with sweat, scars a map of their wild union.
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The roar of the crowd at Valemont Academy's field was deafening under the floodlights, the crisp New York evening air buzzing with rivalry-fueled tension. Hawthorne Academy, their smug arch-rivals from across the county, had been leading 3-0 going into the bottom of the ninth. Valemont's dugout simmered with frustration, but Jon Snow, the 6'3" Southern powerhouse at shortstop, gripped his bat like it owed him money.
His buzz cut gleamed with sweat under the greasy ball cap, well-trimmed beard shadowed by the brim, and his sleeve tattoos—coiled serpents twisting up his arms—flexed as he stepped to the plate. Scars on his knuckles whitened from the tight wrap around the handle, remnants of his rough Louisiana roots clashing with the preppy uniforms around him.
Myrcella Baratheon watched from the bleachers, her 5'6" frame tense in a cheerleader skirt and Valemont sweater that hugged her perky C-cup tits. At 17, her polished blonde waves bounced as she leaned forward, blue eyes locked on Jon.
Since that explosive afternoon with her mother weeks ago, their sex life had ignited—Myrcella's high sex drive turning her into a insatiable size queen, craving the stretch of Jon's uncut monster cock every chance they got. But tonight, victory came first.
Bases loaded, two outs. Hawthorne's pitcher sneered, winding up for a fastball. Jon's thick Louisianan accent muttered a prayer under his breath as he swung.
Crack—the bat connected like thunder, the ball sailing over the outfield wall in a walk-off Grand Slam. The scoreboard flipped: Valemont 4, Hawthorne 3. The stadium erupted, teammates mobbing Jon at home plate, pounding his tattooed back and inked chest through his jersey.
"Y'all thought we were done? Eat that, Hawthorne!" Jon bellowed, accent rolling thick, lifting his cap to wipe sweat from his buzzed scalp.
Myrcella bolted from the stands, skirt flipping up her thighs as she threw herself into his arms amid the chaos. Her lips crashed against his in a victory kiss, tongues tangling fiercely, her hands fisting his jersey. "You did it, Jon! That home run... fuck, you're my hero." She nipped his bearded jaw, C-cups pressing into his broad chest.
He grinned, scarred hands gripping her ass under the skirt. "Cher, that swing was for you. Now let's get outta here 'fore I take you right on the field."
The celebration spilled into the locker room, steam from the showers already curling in the air as the team stripped down, high-fiving and whooping. Jon and Myrcella slipped away to a corner stall, the door barely latched before clothes started coming off—just enough for access. Jon's jersey hit the tile, revealing the Celtic knot tattoo sprawling across his pecs, sweat tracing the lines. Myrcella yanked her sweater up, exposing her lacy bra cupping those firm C-cups, nipples poking through.
"Quick, babe—need you now," she whispered, dropping to her knees on the damp floor. Water sprayed from adjacent showers, misting their skin. She tugged his baseball pants down, his uncut cock flopping out—heavy, over 10 inches even semi-hard, thick veins pulsing under the foreskin. Precum beaded at the slit as she gripped the base, her smaller hands struggling to circle the girth.
Jon leaned against the tiled wall, boots still on, cap askew. "Suck it, girl. Show me how much you love winnin' with me." His voice was a gravelly drawl, hand tangling in her blonde hair.
Myrcella dove in, lips stretching wide around the bulbous head. She slurped greedily, tongue swirling the foreskin back to lap at the salty underside. No gag as she pushed deeper, throat relaxing to swallow half his length in one go, cheeks hollowing with suction.
Wet gags echoed softly over the team's chatter outside, her saliva dripping down his balls. "Mmm, tastes like victory," she mumbled around him, popping off to kiss the shaft, tracing veins with her tongue before diving back, nose bumping his pubes as she deepthroated the full beast.
"Fuck, your mouth's a goddamn miracle," Jon groaned, hips bucking lightly, tattoos shifting with each thrust. He pulled her up after a minute, spinning her to face the wall. Her skirt hiked up, panties shoved aside—no time for full nudity. He rubbed his slick cockhead against her soaked pussy lips, the thickness teasing her entrance.
"Do it—fuck me hard," Myrcella begged, arching back, C-cups heaving.
He slammed in, the girth splitting her wide in one brutal thrust. She cried out, muffled by his hand over her mouth, walls clenching around the invasion. Jon pounded relentlessly, the shower spray soaking his uniform half-unbuttoned over his pants, water sluicing over his scarred shoulders. "Tight as hell, cher. Takin' this big dick like a champ." Each slap of his hips against her ass echoed, his balls smacking her clit.
They kissed sideways, sloppy and urgent—his beard scraping her cheek, tongues battling as he reached around to pinch her nipple through the bra. Myrcella ground back, moaning into his mouth. "Deeper—stuff me full! Your cock's so thick, ruining my pussy." Her orgasm hit fast, thighs quaking, juices squirting around his shaft.
Jon followed with a grunt, pulling out to cum on her ass, thick ropes painting her skin white. He smeared it with his thumb, kissing her neck. "That's my girl. But we're not done—truck's waitin'."
They cleaned up hastily, stealing kisses under the water, his hands soaping her tits while she stroked him back to hardness. Dressed in a rush—her skirt smoothed down, his jersey damp and clinging—they snuck out amid the lingering team noise, heading to the parking lot where Jon's 1987 F-250 sat like a faithful beast, its rusty bed covered by a worn tarp.
The lot was emptying, but shadows hid them as Jon dropped the tailgate with a clang. He boosted Myrcella into the bed first, her skirt riding up as she sprawled on the blanket he'd tossed there earlier. The truck's suspension creaked under his weight as he climbed in, the night air cool against their heated skin. No full strip—clothes stayed on, adding to the filthy urgency.
"Celebrate proper now," Jon rumbled, pinning her down with his 6'3" frame. His cap came off, buzzed head shining in the moonlight, beard tickling her collarbone as he kissed her deeply. Tongues dueled, wet and possessive, his scarred hands shoving her sweater up again to free those C-cups. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing the hard peak while palming the other, rolling it roughly.
Myrcella arched, fingers digging into his inked arms, tracing the thorny roses. "Yes—bite 'em. Your mouth feels so good." She fumbled with his jeans, freeing his cock once more—still slick from the shower, rock-hard and throbbing. She stroked it, foreskin gliding over the head, thumb smearing precum.
He growled, yanking her panties aside fully now. "Gonna fuck you in my truck, darlin'. Make this old girl shake." Positioning between her spread thighs, he thrust in deep, the thickness bottoming out with a wet squelch. The F-250 rocked on its shocks, bed creaking like it was alive.
"Oh god, Jon—it's so big, filling every inch!" Myrcella gasped, legs wrapping his waist, heels digging into his ass over the jeans. She kissed him hungrily, sucking his lower lip, tasting the salt of his sweat mixed with the field's dirt.
Jon drove into her steadily, the truck bed protesting with each powerful snap of his hips. His chest tattoo pressed against her tits, ink warm against her skin. "Pussy's grippin' me tight—love how you take it all. Deeper? Yeah?" He angled up, hitting her spot, balls slapping her ass through the thin fabric barrier.
She nodded frantically, nails raking his back tattoo—the snarling wolf—under the jersey. "Harder—pound me! Your huge cock's making me so wet, leaking all over you." Dirty pleas spilled between kisses, her tongue tracing his beard, nipping his jaw. The vehicle swayed, headlights from passing cars flickering over them, but they didn't care—lost in the rhythm.
He flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her hips up. Skirt bunched at her waist, he re-entered from behind, hands gripping her waist. The new angle let him go balls-deep, stretching her limits. "Ass up, cher—take this dick like you mean it." Slaps echoed louder now, the tarp muffling their moans as he fucked her relentlessly, one hand sliding under to rub her clit.
Myrcella pushed back, C-cups scraping the blanket. "Fuck yes—ram it in! I love being your size slut, stuffed and sore." She turned her head for a kiss, their mouths meeting awkwardly but fiercely, saliva trailing as he claimed her.
The truck got its full workout—suspension groaning, frame rattling as Jon's pace quickened. Sweat poured down his scarred torso, mixing with hers. "Cum for me—squeeze this cock." Her walls fluttered, orgasm ripping through her with a scream into the night, pussy pulsing and flooding him.
"Shit—here it comes," Jon snarled, burying deep. He unloaded inside, hot jets of cum pumping into her depths, overflowing and dripping down her thighs as he kept thrusting through it. They collapsed together, his weight comforting, kissing lazily—soft pecks turning heated again.
"Best win ever," Myrcella murmured, tracing a scar on his knuckle.
"And the night's young," he drawled, already hardening inside her. The F-250 settled, but their celebration was far from over—round two brewing under the stars, clothes disheveled, bodies entwined in victorious filth.
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The sprawling Baratheon estate in Valemont loomed like a gilded cage turned playground, its manicured lawns silent under the autumn sun. Robert and Cersei had jetted off to New York City for a high-society gala, leaving 17-year-old Myrcella the run of the place for the weekend.
At 5'6", her petite frame buzzed with anticipation as she texted Jon Snow, her 18-year-old Southern stud, to come over. Since the baseball victory and their truck-bed frenzy, their hunger for each other had only grown—Myrcella's transformation into a devoted size queen making her crave the relentless stretch of Jon's massive uncut cock at every turn.
Jon arrived in his rumbling 1987 F-250 just after noon, the engine growling to a stop in the driveway. He stepped out at 6'3", muscles rippling under a faded flannel shirt that strained against his tattooed chest, jeans hugging his thick thighs and the heavy bulge beneath. His greasy ball cap sat low over his buzz cut, well-trimmed beard framing a grin as he spotted Myrcella waiting on the porch in a skimpy tank top and shorts that showcased her perky C-cup tits and toned legs. Scars on his knuckles caught the light as he scooped her up, scarred hands palming her ass.
"House to ourselves, cher? Gonna wreck this place," Jon drawled in his thick Louisianan accent, kicking the door shut behind them after she dragged him inside. His lips claimed hers in a bruising kiss, tongue plunging deep, tasting her minty breath as she moaned into his mouth.
Myrcella locked her legs around his waist, grinding against the denim barrier. "Fuck yes—endless rounds. I've got toys upstairs to play with your monster." Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief, blonde hair tousled as she nipped his bearded jaw.
They barely made it to her bedroom before clothes flew. Jon's flannel hit the floor, revealing the Celtic knot tattoo across his pecs and the snarling wolf inked on his back. Myrcella peeled off her tank, C-cups bouncing free, nipples hardening in the cool air. She shoved his jeans down, his uncut cock springing out—over 10 inches of thick, veined meat, foreskin half-retracted over the swollen head, already leaking precum.
"God, I love this beast," she whispered, dropping to her knees. Her small hands wrapped around the base, stroking firmly as she leaned in to suck the tip, tongue flicking the slit. Jon groaned, fingers tangling in her hair, hips rocking forward. She took him deeper, throat opening effortlessly to swallow inch after inch until her nose pressed into his pubes, cheeks bulging with his girth. Saliva dribbled down her chin as she bobbed, humming vibrations along his shaft.
"Suck that dick, girl—deep like only you can," Jon rasped, watching her through half-lidded eyes, tattoos flexing with each breath.
She pulled off with a pop, strings of spit connecting her lips to his cockhead. "Bed—now. I want you pounding my pussy." They tumbled onto the king-sized bed, Myrcella spreading her legs wide, pussy already glistening. Jon positioned between her thighs, rubbing his thick length along her folds before thrusting in balls-deep. She arched, crying out as the stretch burned deliciously, walls clenching around him.
"So fucking huge—split me open!" Myrcella gasped, kissing him sloppily, tongues sliding wetly as he started pumping. His scarred hands pinned her wrists above her head, the wolf tattoo rippling on his back as he drove into her relentlessly. The headboard thumped against the wall, bed creaking under their rhythm. She wrapped her legs around him, heels digging into his ass, urging him deeper.
"Tight little cunt milkin' me—gonna fill you up," he grunted, beard scraping her neck as he sucked her tits, teeth grazing a nipple while pinching the other. Her first orgasm crashed over her quickly, pussy spasming, juices soaking his balls. Jon kept going, flipping her onto all fours for doggy, slamming back in with wet slaps echoing through the room.
They fucked for hours that afternoon—missionary on the floor, her riding him reverse with ass cheeks jiggling, even against the window overlooking the garden, his cock buried in her while she fogged the glass with moans. Cum leaked from her pussy after he unloaded twice, thick ropes painting her insides white. But they weren't done; Myrcella grabbed her secret stash from the nightstand—a drawer full of sex toys she'd ordered online, craving more even after Jon's size.
"Watch this," she teased, selecting a thick black dildo almost as girthy as him but ribbed for extra friction. Lubing it up, she lay back and slid it into her soaked pussy, moaning as it stretched her alongside the remnants of his cum. Jon stroked his hardening cock, eyes dark with lust. "Fuck yourself with that—pretend it's me while I recover."
She pumped the toy in and out, free hand circling her clit, C-cups heaving. "It's good, but nothing beats your real cock—come here, use the vibe on my ass." Jon obliged, grabbing a slim vibrator, buzzing it against her back entrance while she fucked herself with the dildo. He pushed the tip in slowly, her hole clenching as vibrations hummed through her. "Oh shit—double stuffed! Harder, Jon—make me cum again."
He kissed her deeply, tongue mimicking the thrusts, as she shattered around the toys, squirting onto the sheets. Then he replaced the dildo with his cock, anal now, pounding her ass while the vibe buzzed her clit. "Take it all, cher—your holes are mine." She screamed into his mouth, another climax ripping through her, his cum flooding her ass soon after.
By evening, they moved to the living room, ordering pizza but eating it off each other's bodies—pepperoni on her tits, which he licked clean before fucking her on the couch. Night fell with them in the master bedroom—her parents' bed—using restraints from the toy drawer to tie her spread-eagle. Jon teased her with a rabbit vibrator, the ears flicking her clit while the shaft pistoned inside, building her to the edge before pulling it out and replacing with his tongue, lapping her folds until she begged.
"Please—fuck me with your huge dick! Toys are fun, but I need you raw." He untied her, flipping her over the pillows and railing her pussy from behind, balls slapping her clit. They kissed over their shoulders, sloppy and desperate, her turning to suck his tongue. Cum after cum—inside, on her face, tits dripping with it—they lost count, bodies slick with sweat, the house reeking of sex.
Saturday dawned with lazy morning sex in the kitchen, Myrcella bent over the island as Jon ate her out from behind, then fucked her standing, her C-cups pressed against the marble. They lounged by the pool midday, her riding him on a floatie until it deflated under their thrusts, water splashing as he came in her mouth, her swallowing every drop while deepthroating him underwater.
Debauchery peaked that afternoon in the home theater, lights dimmed, porn playing on the screen for inspiration. Myrcella strapped on a harness with a dildo, pegging Jon's ass while he jerked his cock, groaning at the new sensation. "Fuck my hole, babe—then I'll wreck yours." She did, pounding him until he spurted across his tattooed abs, then he returned the favor, double-penetrating her with his cock in her pussy and a huge dildo in her ass, her screams filling the room as she came harder than ever.
"You're destroying me—in the best way," she panted, kissing him fiercely, tasting herself on his lips.
Meanwhile, in New York City, Cersei Baratheon paced their penthouse suite, the gala's glamour soured by gnawing jealousy. At 38, her D-cup figure still turned heads in her designer gown, but thoughts of Jon's enormous cock haunted her since that first intervention. Robert snored beside her, oblivious, but Cersei couldn't shake the itch. Feigning a migraine, she booked the first flight back, texting Myrcella she'd return early due to 'illness.' Her plan? Catch them, then insert herself—claim a share of that Southern beast.
By late Saturday evening, Cersei slipped her key into the estate's lock, the house unnaturally quiet except for muffled moans drifting from upstairs. Heart pounding, she crept toward the master bedroom, pushing the door ajar to a sight that ignited her core: Myrcella on all fours on the king bed, naked and glistening, Jon behind her, his 6'3" frame slamming into her ass with brutal force. His back tattoo flexed, sweat tracing the wolf's snarls, while his thick uncut cock—glistening with lube and her juices—plunged in and out, stretching her hole obscenely. Toys littered the sheets: a massive dildo still wet from use, vibrators buzzing faintly on the floor.
"Yes—ram that fat cock deeper! Your cum's still leaking from my pussy," Myrcella cried, pushing back, blonde hair matted, C-cups swinging.
Jon growled, slapping her ass red. "Greedy slut—gonna flood this tight ass next. Kiss me." He leaned over, capturing her mouth in a deep, tongue-filled lock, beards and lips meshing wetly.
Cersei froze, hand slipping under her skirt to rub her aching pussy through soaked panties. But lust overrode shock; she stepped in, clearing her throat. "Well, this is... enlightening."
They startled, Jon pulling out with a wet pop, his cock throbbing angrily, over 10 inches slick and veined. Myrcella whipped around, face flushing but eyes defiant. "Mom? You're early—what the—"
Cersei shed her coat, revealing the low-cut blouse hugging her D-cups. "Illness my ass—I came for this." She eyed Jon's member hungrily, stepping closer. "Don't stop on my account. In fact... let me join. That cock's too big for one girl."
Jon smirked, accent thick. "Ma'am—er, Cersei. You sure? We been goin' all weekend."
She stripped swiftly, gown pooling at her feet, full D-cups freed, nipples erect. "Positive. Myrcella, hand me that dildo—warm up while I taste him." Myrcella hesitated, then grinned wickedly, passing the ribbed toy. As Cersei dropped to her knees, wrapping lips around Jon's cockhead—stretching wide, tongue swirling the foreskin—Myrcella slid the dildo into her own pussy, moaning as she watched.
Cersei gagged trying to deepthroat, only managing seven inches before pulling back, saliva coating his shaft. "So thick—fuck my throat anyway." Jon obliged, gripping her hair and thrusting, her eyes watering as she slurped greedily. Myrcella crawled over, kissing Cersei around his cock, their tongues meeting on the veined length, sharing the salty precum.
"Mom's joining? Hot—suck him together," Myrcella urged, lapping the balls while Cersei bobbed.
Jon groaned, scarred hands on both their heads. "Y'all are killin' me—bed, now." He lifted Cersei effortlessly, tossing her beside Myrcella. Positioning between them, he thrust into Cersei's pussy first, the mature walls gripping tighter than her daughter's, stretching her wide. "Fuck, still so snug—take it all."
Cersei arched, D-cups bouncing as he pounded. "Yes—deeper than last time! Your huge dick owns me." She kissed Myrcella beside her, mother-daughter tongues tangling incestuously, hands roaming each other's tits.
Myrcella grabbed a double-ended dildo, sliding one end into her pussy and the other into Cersei's mouth. "Suck it like his cock, Mom—while he fucks you." Cersei did, moaning around it as Jon hammered her, the bed shaking.
He switched, pulling out to plunge into Myrcella's ass, her riding back while Cersei straddled her face, grinding pussy on her tongue. "Lick me clean, darling—taste where he was." Myrcella lapped eagerly, clit sucked by her mother's folds.
Toys amplified the chaos: Jon used a vibrating cock ring on himself, buzzing against Cersei's clit as he fucked her doggy while she ate Myrcella out. Then a strap-on for Myrcella to peg Cersei anally while Jon railed Myrcella's pussy, their bodies a sweaty, moaning tangle. Kisses flew everywhere—Jon claiming Cersei's mouth mid-thrust, Myrcella sucking his tongue while dildo-pounding her mom.
"Cum inside her—fill Mom up!" Myrcella demanded, and Jon did, roaring as jets of thick cum pumped into Cersei's pussy, overflowing. She came seconds later, walls milking him, then pulled off to sit on Myrcella's face, feeding her the creampie.
The night blurred into endless rounds: Cersei riding Jon reverse, D-cups in his face as he sucked nipples, Myrcella using a dildo on his ass from behind. Group oral—both women deepthroating him in tandem, gagging and slurping until he erupted, cum splattering their faces, which they licked off each other in a filthy kiss.
By dawn, exhausted but insatiable, they collapsed in a heap—Jon's cock still semi-hard between Cersei's thighs, toys scattered, bodies marked with bites and handprints. "This weekend's just starting," Cersei purred, kissing Jon deeply, tongue probing as Myrcella nuzzled his chest tattoo.
"Damn right—more debauchery tomorrow," Jon drawled, pulling them closer, the house now a den of unending lust.
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Sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains of the master bedroom, casting golden streaks across the tangled sheets. Jon stirred first, his 6'3" body sprawled between the two women, morning wood pressing insistently against Cersei's thigh. At 38, her D-cup breasts rose and fell with steady breaths, blonde hair splayed like a halo on the pillow. Myrcella, 17 and insatiable, curled against his tattooed chest, her C-cups squished against his side, one leg draped over his hip. The air hung thick with the musk of dried cum, sweat, and the faint buzz of a forgotten vibrator under the bed.
Jon's scarred hand slid down Cersei's curve, fingers dipping between her legs to find her pussy still slick from the night's excesses. She woke with a soft moan, green eyes fluttering open to meet his dark gaze. "Already?" she whispered, but her hips bucked into his touch, clit throbbing under his thumb.
"Mornin', ladies," Jon rumbled, accent gravelly from sleep. He rolled toward Cersei, capturing her mouth in a slow, deep kiss, tongue sliding against hers as he fingered her deeper, two digits curling inside her heat. Myrcella stirred, blinking awake to the sight, her hand instinctively reaching for his thick cock, stroking the uncut length from base to tip, foreskin gliding over the head.
"Morning wood for us?" Myrcella teased, leaning in to kiss Jon's bearded neck, then trailing licks down to his chest tattoo, tongue tracing the Celtic knots. Cersei broke the kiss, turning to pull Myrcella into it, mother and daughter sharing a wet, open-mouthed exchange, tongues visible as they moaned softly.
"Share him," Cersei commanded, voice husky. She pushed Jon onto his back, straddling his face while Myrcella mounted his hips. Cersei's pussy hovered over his mouth, and he dove in, tongue lapping her folds flat and broad, sucking her clit between his lips. She ground down, D-cups swaying as she reached for the nightstand, grabbing a curved G-spot vibrator. "Myrcella, lube this—use it on yourself while you fuck him."
Myrcella snatched the bottle, slicking the toy before easing it into her ass, the curve pressing against her walls as she lowered onto Jon's cock. Her pussy stretched around his girth, inch after thick inch disappearing inside her until her ass cheeks met his thighs. "Oh fuck—stuffed full already," she gasped, rocking slowly, the vibrator in her ass amplifying every movement.
Jon groaned into Cersei's pussy, the vibrations from his voice sending shivers through her. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her harder onto his face, nose buried in her trimmed bush as he sucked and licked relentlessly. Cersei turned the vibrator on low, sliding it into her own pussy alongside his tongue, the buzz making her thighs quake. "Taste how wet you make me—lick deeper."
Myrcella bounced faster, pussy clenching around his shaft, juices dripping down his balls. She leaned forward, kissing Cersei again, their tits brushing—D-cups against C-cups—as the toy hummed between them. "Mom, your pussy's dripping on his face—ride his tongue harder." Cersei did, circling her hips, the vibrator pistoning in time with her grinds until she came, flooding Jon's mouth with her release. He swallowed greedily, beard glistening.
"My turn," Myrcella panted, pulling off his cock with a wet schlick, the vibrator slipping from her ass. She swapped places, sitting on Jon's face, her pussy grinding as he ate her out, tongue plunging into her cum-filled hole from the night before. Cersei positioned over his cock, sinking down slowly, her mature pussy gripping tighter, walls fluttering around the stretch. "So big—fills every inch," she hissed, starting to ride, hands on his tattooed pecs for leverage.
Jon thrust up into Cersei, hips snapping as he sucked Myrcella's clit, fingers spreading her ass cheeks to lick her hole. Myrcella grabbed a thick anal plug from the drawer, lubing it and easing it into Cersei's ass while she rode. "Take this too—double the fun." Cersei cried out, the plug's base flush against her, enhancing the pound of Jon's cock in her pussy.
They switched again, Jon flipping Cersei onto her stomach, cock slamming into her ass now, the plug discarded as he stretched her wider. Myrcella knelt in front, feeding Cersei her pussy, fingers tangled in her mother's hair. "Suck my clit—make me cum while he reams your ass." Cersei's tongue worked eagerly, lapping and sucking as Jon's balls slapped against her, his scarred hands spreading her cheeks.
"Tight back here—gonna pump you full," Jon growled, leaning over to kiss Myrcella deeply, tasting Cersei's essence on her lips. Myrcella broke away, grabbing a double-sided dildo, sliding one end into her pussy and offering the other to Cersei. "Suck it—pretend it's his dick." Cersei took it in her mouth, bobbing as she ate Myrcella out, the vibrations from her moans traveling through the toy.
Jon's pace quickened, ass clenching around him until he unloaded, hot spurts filling Cersei's depths. She shuddered, pushing back, then pulled off to straddle Myrcella's face, letting the cum drip into her open mouth. Myrcella lapped it up, tongue delving deep, while Jon watched, stroking his still-hard cock.
Breakfast was a filthy affair in the kitchen. They raided the fridge naked, but food turned to foreplay—Jon bending Myrcella over the counter, cock thrusting into her pussy from behind while she ate strawberries off Cersei's tits. Cersei lay on the island, legs spread, a banana peel discarded as Jon fucked her with the fruit first, then replaced it with his tongue. "Eat me like dessert," she demanded, pulling his head closer.
Myrcella fetched the toy bag, selecting nipple clamps with a chain. She clipped them on Cersei's erect buds, tugging the chain as Jon ate her out, making her arch and moan. "Pain and pleasure—cum for us." Cersei did, squirting onto Jon's beard, which Myrcella licked clean in a sloppy three-way kiss, tongues battling over the tangy fluid.
By midday, they migrated to the pool house, the sun warming their slick skin. Jon lounged on a chaise, Myrcella riding his cock reverse cowgirl, ass bouncing as she faced Cersei, who wore a strap-on harness with a veined dildo matching Jon's size. Cersei stepped up, sliding the toy into Myrcella's ass, double-penetrating her daughter while Jon filled her pussy. "Two huge cocks—wreck my holes!" Myrcella screamed, C-cups jiggling, hands braced on Jon's thighs.
They thrust in unison, Jon's hands roaming to pinch her nipples, Cersei's fingers rubbing her clit. Kisses rained down—Myrcella twisting to suck Jon's tongue, then Cersei's, their bodies a symphony of slaps and squelches. Myrcella came explosively, pussy and ass spasming, milking both intrusions. Jon followed, flooding her pussy, while Cersei pulled out, making Myrcella clean the dildo with her mouth, tasting her own ass.
Afternoon blurred into the gym, sweat from workouts turning to sex sweat. Jon pressed Cersei against the mirrored wall, cock pounding her pussy as she watched their reflections, D-cups pressed flat. Myrcella joined from behind, using a vibrating wand on Cersei's clit, then switching to lick Jon's balls as he thrust. "Watch yourself get fucked—slutty and owned," Myrcella murmured, kissing Cersei's neck.
They took turns on the weight bench: Myrcella tied down with resistance bands, Jon fucking her mouth while Cersei rode her face, a suction-cup dildo mounted on the bench for Cersei to grind on later. Jon's cock bulged her throat, saliva pouring as she gagged willingly—no reflex to stop her. Cersei came on her tongue, then untied her for a pile-on, Jon in Myrcella's ass, Cersei scissoring her pussy with a ridged toy.
"Grind that toy on my clit—fuck, yes," Myrcella begged, kissing Jon over Cersei's shoulder, tongues sloppy and desperate. Orgasms chained together—Myrcella first, then Cersei grinding to completion, Jon pulling out to cum across their joined bodies, ropes landing on tits and bellies.
As evening fell, they returned to the living room, ordering takeout but ignoring it for the fireplace rug. Cersei on her back, legs over Jon's shoulders as he drilled her pussy deep, Myrcella sitting on her face, pussy eaten while she deepthroated a massive suction dildo stuck to the coffee table. "Suck that fake cock—imagine it's mine," Jon grunted, thrusting harder.
Cersei mumbled around Myrcella's folds, vibrations humming up. Myrcella pulled off the dildo to kiss Cersei, sharing the silicone taste, then guided Jon's cock from Cersei's pussy to her mouth for a quick suck—tasting her mother—before he plunged back in. Toys everywhere: a remote-controlled egg in Cersei's ass, buzzing on high as Jon fucked her, making her buck wildly.
The final frenzy hit in the shower, steam filling the marble enclosure. Jon soaped their bodies, fingers probing pussies and asses, then bent Cersei forward, cock sliding into her from behind while Myrcella knelt to lick where they joined, tongue flicking his shaft and her clit. "Taste us together," Cersei moaned, pulling Myrcella up for a kiss under the spray.
Myrcella grabbed a waterproof vibe, pressing it to Jon's perineum as he pounded, heightening his thrusts. He switched to Myrcella, lifting her against the wall, legs wrapped around him, cock hammering her pussy while Cersei sucked her tits, teeth nipping. "Cum in me—end the weekend right," Myrcella pleaded, and he did, pumping thick loads as water washed it down.
They toweled off, collapsing on the couch, bodies spent but glowing. Robert's return loomed tomorrow, but for now, the house echoed with satisfied sighs. "Best weekend ever," Myrcella whispered, kissing Jon's scarred knuckles, Cersei nodding as she nuzzled his other side.
"And it ain't over 'til we say," Jon drawled, pulling them into his lap, the promise of more lingering in the air.