Lysa merrily walked over to the grand bed and sat down on the edge. When Wylis joined her on the side, she felt the bedframe creak and the bedding sink under his weight. Oh, she remembered being under that same weight once, that night…
"Tell me, have you been well? I hope Ramsgate keeps you safe and warm. Those vile Boltons... I nearly wept with fury when I heard. It sickens me to think they breathe the same air as you." She declared, barely able to hold her anger. She already loathed the Boltons in her heart.
"Aye, they are a pain in the back, but I can deal with them. What brings you to me this late, my lady?"
At that inquiry, Lysa froze. She didn't know how to go about it. Her hand, on its own, reached for her belly as she caressed it. "I… that night… Before I met you, I had accepted my fate. A fruitless marriage of no substance. Bedding was a test every time. But then… You gave me my most cherished memory. I had never thought the touch of a man as mighty as you would be so… warm and soothing to my soul."
She could see the confusion on Lord Wylis's face.
"My lord, please, do not be uneasy. I mean no scheme, no greed. I know the promise between you and my husband, yet I cannot quiet what I feel. I want more, more of you, more children born of our time together. I long to feel again what once filled me with such warmth while I still am fertile."
Steeling her resolve, she moved with intent and gently slid off the bed's edge, getting on her knees. She pivoted quickly and shifted, getting between Wylis' legs, a show of her submission, a blatant disregard for her own status. All so she could feel this man's warmth again.
"My lady…"
Oh… His hands are so… rough.
Lysa nearly moaned when she felt Wylis caress her face and move her red hair, tucking it behind her ear. She shifted closer on her knees, her bosom pressed right atop his enlarging crotch. Her hands too moved there, resting on his cock as she felt it throb to life. She nearly moaned yet again.
"Have you spoken with Lord Arryn?"
She denied with a trembling shake of her head. "I will, truly, I swear by the Seven. But I need your word first… if you'll bless me with more children."
Silence fell between them. Lysa felt her heart bolt. She gulped, confused by her own state. She could nearly smell his arousal, his cock so close to her face. Her own arousal soaked her. Her body screamed, damned be consequences, just disrobe and slide down on his fat cock. But she knew it'd wound her in that state.
So, she took the second-best option.
Her hands moved with a mind of their own and untied his trousers. In a blink or two, she had one hand shoved in, his fat cock fetched out that she couldn't fully grip in her clenching fist for the life of her.
Mmmmm… So warm… Oh, this scent.
With stars in her eyes, she gawked at the cock that had tamed her. That made her let go of all her pride, ego, and honor, and submit like a halfpenny whore.
She gripped with both hands, slender fingers wrapping, one around the base and the other near the middle, which still left a few inches above with that glossy, throbbing purple knob, threateningly teasing her.
"If… Lord Arryn verbally gives me his word…"
Oh, Gods! He's willing! Yes, he is!
"Then I see no reason to refuse you, my lady."
Lysa beamed with a smile, so big. But instead of answering, she just drove her face down, mouth agape, and took him in. She felt her lips stretch open to the limit, his fat girth warm and beating like a heart.
Mmm… salt… and… a real man.
Her tongue lapped his cockhead, and she tasted him. She tasted his early drops of release, so intoxicating. She exhaled in loud breaths and inhaled the lovely scents of him. She tried to look and his face… oh, he looked so satisfied.
But she wanted more. She wanted him to drown in pleasure. So, she took another inch in until his cock tickled the back of her throat. As soon as she coughed, she pulled back and released his shaft.
Her hands continued to stroke him, rub him, curling fingers around like tightening a screw, making a mess out of his spit-drenched length. "M-My lord…"
By just that faint choking, she was out of breath already.
"I wish we could… move to the bed, but I fear we don't have time, nor… is my body prepared for the warmth you'll plunge inside me. So…"
So willing, her face flustered, eyes watery, hair silky. She pushed her own gown off her shoulders, down her glistening pale skin. As the gown fell to her elbows, she slid her arms out entirely. Next, she removed the smallclothes with ease.
"I still hope to share my warmth with you."
Oh, his eyes! I love this!
Lysa noticed how he seemed stricken by the sight of her curvaceous maternal breasts, swollen in preparation for the life she was about to birth. Still in the prime years, she was proud of her body, aware that her breasts didn't sag. She loved his gaze locked on her faint, noticeable veins, her dark pinkish-red nipples tight, white nectar beading.
"Mmmh…"
What? Lysa cheered inside at Wylis' grunt. She'd only grabbed her breasts and engulfed his fat phallus between them.
He likes this? Very well.
She knew exactly what to do.
####
Uh… That's my second milk-job in what? A month!
Not that he was complaining. The warmth was otherworldly, like floating in warm butter. Lysa's tits were softer than the softest silk, and as she used her own hands to grope them and squeeze them into a snug tunnel, some warm beads of her maternal nectar dripped.
In no time, her milk became the oil, forming a sticky coat along his shaft, between her breasts. So sinful, that Wylis had to struggle not to thrust up. He just sat there, legs spread wide as the beautiful woman moved her body.
She looked up the entire time, her gaze steamy. Then, she lowered her face, taking his peeking cockhead in her mouth. He was quite thick and long, enough that a few inches always slipped up out of the warm valley.
"Mmmmh~"
Lysa attended to him like he was the source of the gods' nectar.
It was working on Wylis as well. The wet sounds, the grip of her mouth, had his toes curled. The sensation of her soft tongue sliding, wrapping around his cockhead pushed him to the edge, his one hand moving on its own to rest on her head.
She looked so innocent there on her knees, slobbering, eyes big and watery, looking up at him and eager to please. Her succulent breasts, as well, felt like warm, wet silk.
Slosh! Slosh!
"Ungh… Mmmm."
Lysa hummed, choked at times at the milk-drenched cock she took in her mouth. She threw her breasts high and slammed them down on his lap, never leaving an inch of his magnificent thickness alone, uncared, untouched by her warmth.
But she had limits. Getting tired, she stopped using her breasts. In their place, she began stroking his fat girth, squeezing with all her strength, on a quest to fully grip him. She gobbled the head and a few inches until it fucked the back of her throat.
When that got too much, she just did whatever she could mindlessly while catching her breath.
"Ummmh… Gods have… made you so… perfect…."
"..."
Wylis watched, a little speechless. He gulped at the unholy sight as she rubbed his entire cock all across her face, eyes, cheeks, and forehead, while her lips only kissed the base. She kept inhaling deep breaths, her spit forming a frothy mess.
"Mmmmh… I can… do this for the… rest of my life and die… happy."
"..."
Wylis wondered what he'd done to get her so obsessed. In fact, now that he thought about it, every woman he'd fucked acted almost the same way. While most weren't this obsessive, they did love getting into bed with him.
Was it the cock? His big body? Face? Or a combination of it all?
"Uh… Close, Lysa."
"Oh!"
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