Turns out, life gets a lot easier when you have a Lannister in your pocket. Sure, it wasn't one of the men, nor someone too influential, but it was enough to get all the information about bandits from the City Watch of Lannisport.
"Gluk! Gluk!"
Three days had passed since that night with Genna Lannister. She was pregnant with his bastard; he knew it, and she probably expected it already. Nor did she seem bothered as, for at least a dozen more times, he'd pumped his seed inside her welcoming cunt. She demanded it herself.
Like dope to an addict, she became inseparable from his cock. She looked for every excuse to meet him, and every meeting was sexual. As it was now, in the middle of the day. He was getting ready to go out to hunt more bandits, but she requested to get a taste of him.
So, like a halfpenny whore, Genna dragged him to a secluded alley in the city, got down on her knees even in that expensive silk gown, and just unleashed her hot, plump-lipped mouth on his cock.
Fuck! She's really good at sucking!
Wylis was enjoying the view from his great height. Looking down, he held her golden hair on the back so they wouldn't come in the way. He just watched her mouth stretch into an 'O' shape around his fat girth and bob back and forth.
She cradled his heavy balls with a hand at the same time, panting, gurgling, choking herself on his length.
"God! You're going to rip it off with that mouth." Wylis groaned, his big legs shaking in that heavenly sensation.
"Ummh…" The filthy sounds of her drenched, sticky mouth rubbing on his length only grew louder. Her soft fingers around the base stroked harder as if she knew he was close.
She had no business doing that. A noblewoman. A wife. A Lannister. Yet there she was, on her knees in a filthy alley like a tavern whore. Silk dress bunched under her thighs, lips swollen from repeated plunges, throat raw and glistening with spit and cock.
She wasn't just sucking him; she was worshiping him. Devouring him like he was divine, like her soul depended on it. Each stroke of her lips, each slurp, each twitch of her jaw wasn't about pleasure. It was an addiction. Desperation.
She licked the underside of his cock like her tongue was digging for marrow, tongue flattening and dragging up every vein, every bump and ridge with obscene precision. She swirled around the head, teased the slit, sucked on it with a pop, then went back down like a starving dog returning to the bone. Her moans vibrated along his shaft, and her cheeks hollowed so tight he could see her jaw working under her skin.
Wylis had been thinking for the last three days. Why would a rich woman like Genna willingly spread her legs to a man like him? He had no blue blood, and no wealth, all he had to boast about was his height, his looks, and his martial prowess.
On the second night, while he folded that fleshy, thick woman underneath himself, he heard her moan, cursing the gods for bringing him into her life so late. It was then he realized why Genna did that. It wasn't just sexual negligence from her husband. But in general, a sense of ruined prospects.
Wylis looked down and saw Genna braced herself, both arms circling his thighs like she needed to anchor herself for what came next. Her throat flexed, mouth wide, and with a savage, sinful push, she forced his cock down her gullet.
"Ugggggk!"
Her nose mashed against his pubes. Gag reflex be damned, she wanted all of it.
The wet heat of her throat hugged him like a silken noose. Her face moved on his cock like she was jerking him off with her whole head, her golden hair bouncing, her tongue flattening then coiling like a snake wrapping its prey. The thick, warm suction of her lips was relentless.
Genna, lady of a noble house—face slick with spit, dress ruined, mascara running, and still moaning greedily around his cock. Like it was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Her green eyes locked on his, dripping with lust, with need.
Like a woman on the edge, possessed by the taste, the feel, the sheer power of pleasuring a man like Wylis.
Makes sense. This must feel like a trophy to her.
He had heard her curse her husband. And perhaps she wasn't alone in Westeros. Since most lords and their sons are raised in abundance, they grow weak, whiny, and broken in character. So, many ladies end up marrying men they don't even like.
Balding, weaklings in battles, filthy to look at, sometimes just fat, and at times too scrawny like Genna's husband. Other than the title of a Lady and some wealth, those men had nothing to give to their wives.
And to such wives, Wylis reckoned he was like the biggest trophy to have. Sure, going as far as to have his bastard was probably too much. But knowing Genna, he reckoned she just wanted a kid that'd actually be maxed out in every way. It was all a game of genes, even though the people of Westeros had no clue what genes were.
How many more unsatisfied noble wives are out there? If even half of them give me a bastard. Wylis felt excited by that mere prospect. But actually doing it was hard. He had no contacts, and he didn't have enough reach.
"Gah… I'm close, Genna." Wylis warned her.
To his surprise, Genna stopped. Abruptly. That sinful mouth unlatched from his cock with a wet gasp, her spit-slick lips glistening, her breath ragged. Before he could ask why, she stood up and spun around, bracing her hands on the edge of the large, empty wine barrel behind her.
In one swift, hungry motion, she lifted her gown up and over her waist, baring that creamy, smooth thick backside with zero hesitation. No smallcloth. No shame. Just glistening arousal leaking from her needy slit.
"In me. Now." Her voice cracked like a whip.
How the fuck was he supposed to say no to that? But he still looked left and right, hoping nobody would disturb them. Though he reckoned Tywin already knew it by now. Genna wasn't really discreet.
That trembling, bare ass. Those pasty, plush thighs spread in readiness. And her pussy was already dripping, plump pink lips parting and twitching with every beat of her frantic heart. She had soaked herself wet just from blowing him.
Wylis didn't need a second invitation. He grabbed her wide hips, aimed his fat cock, and slammed inside with one brutal thrust. It was a cave well explored, and he didn't hesitate. No teasing. No mercy. Just raw, instinctive hunger.
"Aaah! Yes!" Genna wailed, back arching as she took the full stretch of him. "Fill me up—breed me a noble heir as fine as… you-oooh!"
Her words snapped the last thread of control he had. He rammed into her, his hips pistoning with the brutal pace of a stallion mating. Her meaty ass cheeks smacked and thrashed against his thrusts, his thighs molding them into lovely shapes with each deep, grounding thrust.
Her walls clenched and fluttered around him, already coaxing him to finish. He was already close, too close. Three thrusts. Just three, and he was already fucking gone. That greedy, ripe pussy gripped him like it knew how to milk him. The slap of his hips echoed against her plump ass, her nectar already frothing around his girth, coating his shaft in messy warmth. Her cervix kissed his tip, and the overload was instant.
"Ghhh—fuck…" Wylis groaned, digging his fingers into her ass cheeks, clawing them, holding her steady as his balls tensed, then exploded.
Thick, scalding seed erupted deep into her cunt, flooding her womb without restraint. He knew she was already carrying his babe. But that didn't matter. She wanted it. She wanted more. And he gave it; pulse after pulse of creamy heat, pumping her full again.
He slumped forward over her for a moment, eclipsing her, his forehead damp, chest heaving. His cock twitched deep inside her with the aftershocks while Genna trembled under him, breathless and mewling softly. He could feel her leaking, his load already spilling out of her, sliding down the inside of her creamy thighs.
He pulled out slowly, cock glistening and still twitching with sensitivity, coated in his filth. Her pussy gushed in his absence, the sloppy, open folds refusing to close.
But Genna wasn't done.
She spun around and dropped to her knees again, grabbing his softening cock with both hands.
Before he could catch his breath, she shoved him right back into her mouth, sucking him down with obscene eagerness. Her lips sealed tight around his shaft as she suckled the last drops straight from the source. Her tongue rolled over his cockhead, swirling in lazy circles, cleaning him up like a devoted little slut who couldn't waste a single drop.
Her green eyes locked onto his, glimmering with lust and waiting for his reaction.
Seeing her eyes so focused on his face, he awkwardly patted her head.
"Good girl."
He instantly cringed at saying that. But it seemed Genna liked it as she giggled with his softening shaft still in her mouth. She rolled it around her tongue and coated it with her spit, wiping it spotlessly clean.
Finally, when he was fully soft, she pulled back with a soft, wet pop, leaving him clean and glistening. That view, no man in Westeros would have believed Genna was a noble lady if seen.
She licked her lips with a satisfied hum, then wrapped one hand around his cock, smirking now that her fingers could close around it. Her thumb brushed along the base, amused at the difference.
"Wylis. You are… a man like none else." Genna said, squeezing his cock in her grip. "You're spent and yet bigger than my spineless husband at his peak. Gods, I wish I could keep it locked up between my legs."
Wylis gave a rough chuckle and offered his hand. He'd learned the way of the words by now. Smooth-talking sex-starved women was easy. "Feels like I've taken more than I gave, my Lady—but I'm not complaining. The last few nights have been something else. I'll return soon. Maybe once I've got a proper title, I'll walk Lannisport without drawing too many eyes."
Genna stood, brushing off her skirts with exaggerated grace. She chuckled, inhaling a deep breath, her lips pursed like in absolute need of something thick and long between her legs. "Oh, spare me the modesty. You'll turn heads wherever you clomp, Wylis—and not just heads. I'm not the only sad, lonely lady who dreams of being swept away by a gallant seven-foot giant on a stallion. Though I dare say I'm the only one honest enough to admit it."
Wylis chuckled, really pondering on how to get more noble ladies to spread their legs for him. "Aye, I'll drink to that. You do have a taste for a stallion."
"Taste? Darling, I devoured it. Once you've tasted something that good, it sticks to the blood like wildfire," she replied and traced a slow circle on his steely chest, her tone somewhere between teasing and regret. "Good luck, then. I don't usually bother with fond thoughts—but gods help me, you'll manage to linger."
Wylis was still coming to accept the effect his sexual prowess had on women.
Initially, he believed women would be disgusted by his size, or scared. And sure, many were. But now, the more famous he got, he realized there were plenty of daring women with a taste for his size.
"I'll write to you if I earn my spurs, my Lady. Let's stay in touch." Wylis offered a genuine thought. Sure, his bastard would never lack luxury, but he still didn't want to abandon the kid fully. And Genna? She was more than a warm bed—she was a door to the lion's den.
"Um-hmm…" Genna gave a pat to his groin and stepped away. "Careful now, sweet-talking will get you everywhere."
Wylis shrugged and started walking away. "Except for the King's Court, I'm afraid."
"Oh, in there you'll need madness."
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