It had been done. The Night King had been slain.
Everyone had seen Drogon fighting the Ice Dragon. Everyone had seen both dragons crash into the mountainside. Some soldiers had even claimed to have seen Jon Snow leap from Rhaegal. But, without a doubt, everyone heard Viserion’s shriek as Longclaw cut him open from throat to tail. Everyone saw as a pillar of blue fire rose into the sky.
What most failed to realize was that that had not been the end of the battle. The Night King had emerged from the husk of his undead thrall. And while Jon Snow had the love of the North, of the Mother of Dragons bolstering his strength, the Night King had centuries of warfare and experience and strength borne of the darkest magics. The King of the North put up a valiant fight, but his frozen foe buried his spear in Jon’s chest without ever changing the expression on his face.
In the end, in mankind’s darkest hour, it was Arya who saved the day. The youngest surviving Stark thrust her Valyrian steel dagger in the Night King’s back, piercing his frozen husk of a heart.
It was the first time in years that Arya had seen Jon.
She swore that it would not be the last.
That was how she had found herself once again face to face with the Red Priestess.
“You’re sure this is what you want?” Melisandre asked, although she knew the answer.
“Many have been sent to the God of Death today. Friends. Allies. Those who had long cheated Death. Surely, Death could spare a single soul,” Arya answered.
Melisandre’s lips curled upwards, though her eyes held no mirth, as she glanced at each soul in the room.
“You must be sure this is your heart’s greatest desire,” she said. “All of you.”
Sansa nodded, her eyes full of tears. She still had so much that she had wanted to tell Jon—things had just begun healing between them. He had given up and sacrificed so much; if she could help restore the rightful King of the North she would.
“I am,” Daenerys murmured. She had also been crying, though many of her tears had dried on the battlefield. Jon had done for her what she had thought was impossible—he had rekindled the sun in her life. There was more than just an attract between them. More than just love. Their very souls were entwined together.
Melisandre considered each woman for a moment before she nodded. She turned her attention back to Jon, who lay on a slab on stone in front of all of them. She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder before dragging it down his chest towards his newest wound—a gaping hole made all the more gruesome by magic and ice.
“I have been asked by Jon Snow not to bring him back should he perish once again,” she stated evenly. “But there are alternate methods…” She pulled off Jon’s coverings, revealing his naked body.
Sansa gasped at the sight of his scars, his muscles, and of his manhood. Dany and Arya tensed, unsure of what was going to happen.
“His body must be warmed,” Melisandre explained, looking at the women as she pulled off her robes, leaving her as naked as Jon. “Body to body, soul to soul. The fire of his life must be reignited and our bodies are the kindling.”
Without further explanation, the Red Woman leaned down and ran her tongue along his limp length.
The braziers arranged in the corners of the room blazed to life as Melisandre began her work.
As the red-haired woman took his cock into her mouth, she began humming an ancient prayer to R’hllor. It wasn’t clear whether it was due to her spell or her mouth, but Jon Snow body began to react. Sansa, Arya, and Daenerys stared on with rapt attention as his cock grew and grew, like an angry python. Tormund had once claimed that Jon Snow didn’t possess the cock of a god. Jon had merely been too humble to reveal that he was a grower, not a shower.
Melisandre’s humming became punctuated with slurps and gags as she took the King of the North’s manhood deeper and deeper into her mouth until he was plunging into her throat. With every inch that he grew, the flames of the braziers grew to match it and the women watching began to feel warm even within the icy room. Soon, Melisandre was struggling with the gigantic shaft of meat, having to stroke his length as she bobbed vigorously on his tip. The whole time, she continued to hum; when she pulled off of his bell end, the surrounding women could just hear desperate chanting in High Valyrian.
The chanting and humming grew more and more intense until finally, Jon’s cock pulsed, visibly, his balls contracting. Melisandre moaned as she felt his seed filling her mouth until her cheeks bulged. She pulled off him when she could take no more, letting the last few spurts ooze from his tip.
The Stark sisters and the Mother of Dragons found themselves staring at Jon’s throbbing cock, shining with spit and cum in the light of the braziers.
Melisandre stood, making her way over to Arya. Placing her hands on Arya’s shoulders, the older woman leaned down and pressed her lips against the young girl’s and kissed her. Arya’s eyes widened as she tasted her brother’s seed. His cum overfilled her mouth faster than she could gulp it down, spilling out and staining her clothes.
The Red Woman’s hands followed the stream of cum leaking from Ayra’s lips, moving to her clothes before quickly removing them, exposing Arya’s tiny body. Needing no further instruction, Arya moved to Jon’s body, her eyes glued to the pillar of pulsing flesh standing proudly between his legs. While some would call her form boyish, her small elfin body could only be described as graceful as she climbed up onto the stone slab that held Jon’s body and straddled him.
Her mouth hung open as she lowered herself down, his cock pushing into her tiny twat. A sound of feminine pleasure dropped from her lips, quite unlike any she had made in the last few years. As Sansa and Daenerys watched Arya sink down on Jon’s cock, they felt the heat of the room intensify and they started disrobing, practically ripping off their winter dresses. Sansa’s body was slender—her breasts were a handful of pale flesh topped by pink berries. While Arya had a curly mat of pubic hair—a result of her haphazard lifestyle—Sansa’s fire-kissed hair had been trimmed into a neat strip in the southern fashion.
As Arya finally took Jon down to his hilt, her voice escaped in a high-pitched cry. She started bouncing up and down as much as she could, though she could hardly bear to bring herself completely off of his tip. She placed her hands on his broad, muscular chest, moving faster and faster, her voice growing louder and more desperate. Arya’s eyes scrunched closed as she rode the King of the North, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through her tiny body.
Melisandre was squatting, forgotten, nearby, still chanting as she rubbed her own sopping cunt. Her eyes rolled back in her head from the pleasure as her entire body occasionally convulsed with pleasure. Unnoticed by anyone, the hole in Jon’s chest had begun to close. The youngest Stark sister, however, did notice how Jon’s cock had started to pulse and twitch inside of her.
“Oh, Jon! Jon! Jon!” Arya cried out. “I—I—” and then she screamed as her world exploded. She felt her womb being flooded by his seed, filling her up to the brim, pushing her beyond the edge. Arya’s back arched as she came, giving one last cry of rapture.
Sansa and Dany’s eyes widened as the tiny girl squirted, spraying her juices all over Jon’s chest. She collapsed on Jon, gasping for breath.
“Can…can I try that?” Sansa asked shyly, taking a step forward. Arya grinned as she nodded at her sister. She moved off of Jon’s cock with a moan before rolling aside. She giggled as his cum came pouring out of her slit, placing a hand over it to try and stem the flow.
“Come on, then,” Arya smiled, reaching up and giving Jon’s glistening cock a few strokes.
Melisandre’s chanting seemed to intensify as Sansa bit her lip before mounting her former bastard brother. With no ceremony, guided by Arya’s hand, Sansa lowered herself onto Jon’s cock, moaning as her fire-kissed crotch swallowed him eagerly.
Sansa, who had once been so innocent, expressed her pleasure in low bestial growls. She leaned down, licking the squirt from Jon’s chest, tasting Arya’s essence, before kissing Jon. She had only been kissed once in her life—by Littlefinger. It had been wrong, staining her, tainting her. This kiss with Jon was just as wrong. But she *wanted* this. This felt *good*.
Whereas Arya had been bouncing up and down, Sansa moved back and forth, like an animal desperate to rut. Her noises were bestial, deep sounds that poured out of her throat. Her entire life she had been used but now she was the one in power. Sitting on top of Jon with his cock pulsing inside her, Sansa finally had control of her life.
A normal person might have been frightened by the sight. The Breaker of Chains found herself rubbing her bald slit, eager for her turn. Arya found herself stroking her sister’s back, edging closer and closer to her flexing butt. What they were doing was undoubtedly incest. They had looked down on Cersei for it. It had torn apart Westeros. And now there was nothing that they wanted more.
Sansa gasped and moaned, feeling Jon’s shaft begin to pulse eagerly. Seeing Jon’s heavy balls begin to tighten, Arya moved up to Jon and Sansa’s faces.
“Do it!” Arya urged. “Fill up your sister, Jon!”
Arya’s next words were cut off as Sansa lunged forward, kissing her younger sister. The kiss was hungry and passionate, with Sansa pushing her tongue into Arya’s mouth, almost like she was searching for any remnants of Jon’s cum.
Then Sansa’s eyes widened, crying out in ecstasy as Jon came once again, filling her belly with a spurt as powerful as the one that had filled up Arya and Melisandre’s mouth before it. She pulled away from Arya so that she could gasp for air.
“We…we need to do that more often,” Sansa smiled.
“Later, there’s still one left,” Arya answered, glancing up at Daenerys. The Targaryen queen was already fingering herself, her arousal clearly evidenced by the wet trail on her thighs.
“But…”
With an exaggerated sigh, Arya grabbed Sansa by her hair, giving it a gentle pull. Sansa moved off of Jon with a moan before collapsing next to Arya. The sisters kissed each other once before Arya began kissing her way down Sansa’s body.
“Arya?” Sansa moaned. “What are you—ooooh!” she gasped as her younger sister began to drink the spunk from Sansa’s slit.
Ignoring the sisters and the chanting—which now sounded closer to orgasmic wailing than religious droning—Daenerys took her turn on top of Jon Snow. Whereas Arya was young and inexperienced and Sansa had never had a healthy relationship, Daenerys was an experienced rider in all senses of the word.
She let out a soft sigh as she felt Jon’s cock fill her up once again. Her hands traveled up his body, feeling his hard muscles. There was a warmth in his skin now—the Night King’s wound was now a simple raw patch of skin. Encouraged, Daenerys took Jon’s hands band brought them up to her full breasts. Her full orbs had grown since she had first lain with Khal Drogo, encouraged by her pregnancy and they had simply never shrunk in size.
Whereas Arya and Sansa’s movements had been frantic, Dany didn’t lose control. Not even when her skin was glistening with sweat or her breath became ragged with exertion. She was using all of her skill to pleasure Jon Snow. She was using her pussy to pull him back up from the depths of death.
She leaned down and kissed Jon, feeling warmth in his body. It made her redouble her efforts, riding him harder and faster. Nearby Sansa shrieked her orgasm as Arya sucked on her clit. Hardly waiting to catch her breath, the older sister leaned down and began devouring Arya, her tongue wagging wildly. The Lady of Winterfell was behaving more like a bitch in heat than a noblewoman, shamelessly tasting another woman’s flower—her own sister’s flower! But her tongue moved faster than she could control. It sought out every fold of Arya’s hairy pussy, diving into her recently plundered depths, before swirling wildly, trying to find other holes to dive into. Sansa traveled across Arya’s ticklish taint, making the younger girl gasp, before her tongue pressed eagerly against Arya’s tight little asshole.
Arya gave a girlish scream as Sansa pushed her way inside, pushing open Arya’s backdoor. Now it was the youngest Stark’s turn to hold on for dear life as she was pleasured by her sibling.
They were all committing incest, Dany realized. Even if he was still called ‘Snow’ he was Dany’s nephew. Even if he wasn’t really Sansa and Arya’s half-brother, he still bore Stark blood. But Dany didn’t care. All she knew was that she loved him. Arya and Sansa loved him. The world may view their union with disgust, they may view it as unnatural, but they would endure. Jon had saved the world. He would fuck who he wanted.
The thought let out a flood from within Daenerys Stormborn that she could not hold back. She found herself collapsing on top of Jon, clutching him as she came like a drowning person clings to a raft. As she cried out, Arya, Sansa, and Melisandre’s voices joined her in ecstasy.
“Come back to me,” she said to Jon Snow. “Come—”
And then she cried out once again as he did exactly that.
His hips thrust upwards, burying his pulsing cock deep inside of her as he filled her womb. His eyes opened wide as he gasped, like a diver finally coming up for air. He let out a delicious moan before Dany’s lips were on him once again, kissing him desperately and passionately as he slowly came to his senses.
Arya and Sansa’s grinding slowed as they slowly became aware of Jon’s revival. They disengaged, eager to see him once again.
“You—you came!” Dany smiled, crying tears of joy.
“Of course, I did,” Jon murmured with a smile. “I seem to have done everything else in the room.”
“Not quite,” Arya replied, leaning in close. “You haven’t fucked any of us in the ass yet.”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/7bs81g/the_perfect_ending_game_of_thronesmfffincest