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Winter is Cumming	By : LL72 Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 23394 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Games of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire or any of there characters. I am not making any money from this this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Sansa
- 2-Arya
- 1
- 2
Arya
Standing in front of the Weirwood tree, singing a hymn to the Seven, Arya Stark couldn't believe how exquisitely beautiful her new wife was. She stood there singing without a stutter or pause, not even having to glance at the other singers' mouths to remind her of the words or keep herself in tune (unlike Arya who kept having to hum the bits she'd forgotten) looking like a picture of perfection. Arya breathed heavily, missed a beat and moved onto the third verse noticeably before anyone else. Her new wife gave her a quick, almost shy smile, before starting at exactly the right point.
It was hard to believe that the beautiful creature wearing Arya's cloak, with her lacy low cut dress and with the hair piled up on top of her head studded with diamonds and rubies, was now her wife. Whilst sibling marriage wasn't uncommon among the great houses, Arya had always believed that if Sansa married in the family it would be Robb or perhaps Bran, but never her. The Old Gods must sometimes know your heart's prayer even if you never say it out loud in front of the tree and here she was.
The hymn ended and the Septon finished his piece with a few words of thanks to the Seven. That done Arya and her new wife walked a few feet forward and knelt on a blanket in front of the Weirwood tree. Bowing their heads they prayed so softly and silently that none of the audience could here, though many were from the North and knew the words. That done they stood up to the cheers of the crowd.
Not long after they were sitting in the Great Hall, Sansa sitting next to her wife at the top table. Arya was aware she probably was grinning so much that she looked like the cat that had got the cream, but as far as she was concerned she was just that. Her sister, her wife, was smiling and conversing with their younger brother Rickon about his squiring whilst Arya divided her time between looking at her wife and remembering her naked and talking to their Mother. Lady Catelyn Stark was very forgiving about her youngest daughter's lapses in politeness, etiquette had never been Arya's favourite lesson - even as a knight.
All around them her Father's bannermen caroused, Flints and Glovers, Umbers and Boltons, Manderlys and the she-bears of House Mormont. Her own knights and lesser Lords matched their guests drink for drink and joke for joke, laughing and shouting, grasping the arses of any serving girl who got in reach, dragging them onto their laps. Arya once would have been down with them, betting with Jorelle Mormont who could snag the pretty kitchen wench with the big teats. Arya cast a sideways look at Sansa, her wife's red hair seeming to glow under the torches, she certainly had the best part of the deal, let Jorelle have the maid, Arya had the pretty maiden.
On the floor the fools stopped their show, bowing in an over the top fashion (one going so far as to fall on his face); hardly anyone noticed, except for Sansa who showed why she be a great lady by politely clapping their efforts. The musicians came next, starting with some old favourites The Bear and the Maiden Fair and The Dornishman's Wife, the more drunken members of the party singing along in a rendition so out of tune even Arya noticed. She smiled as they moved to the 'My Lady Wife' turning to briefly look at Sansa. It was when they began to play Two Hearts that Beat as One her wife stood. "I believe this is our dance my Lady," she smiled.
"Yes," Arya stood and took her wife's upraised hand leading her onto the floor, to the stamps and cheers of the diners. The dance was a slow one, which Arya was grateful for, give her a sword and a shield and she was as supple and skilled as anyone, put her on the dance floor and her feet seemed to go in the opposite direction from where she planned. Her wife raised her hand high and Arya took as they moved together in a slow circle opposite each other, their heads turned so they were looking at each other.
She was so beautiful. Arya smiled, "I am so going to fuck you later."
"Arya," giggled Sansa pretending to look shocked, "You shouldn't be so coarse."
"No, but I am still going to fuck you hard," Arya grinned.
"Will you make me feel like you did yesterday?" Sansa's smile was sweet and lovely, shy and coy and Arya's cunt tingled with desire.
"Yes," vowed Arya. The music changed and they switched direction, their heads turning the other way so they were looking at each other again. "I can't wait to get those lovely teats out again."
Sansa went red, she blushed easily, "They are yours Arya, my Lady."
She smiled as she spoke, her embarrassment balanced by her wetness. And Arya knew how wet her sister could become, yesterday they had picnicked to get to know each other again after many years apart. And Arya had finger-fucked her sister's maiden twat and then tongued it until Sansa was soaked and screaming. The memory made her warm below herself and she thought about having Sansa's pretty face down there lapping her cunt. "You're looking forward to the fucking as well," she said.
Sansa giggled, "My Lady, remember your courtesies."
"What? I shouldn't grab that beautiful arse in public?" her sister teased.
"Yes, no..." laughed Sansa, "That..."
The musicians finished the song, pausing for a second before launching into Flowers of Spring. More guests joined the dancers and Arya was forced to first dance with her Mother and then Leona Manderly and Sybelle Glover. She followed that with a dance with her Steward's wife and the young daughter of her Master of Horse, the young child pleasing Arya by being an even worse dancer than her. She glanced up from time to time to see her wife dancing with their brothers and then both Galbert and Robbet Glover, a procession of Flints and even Whoresbane Umber, who was rumoured to prefer men.
"A wedding needs a bedding," Bran cried, standing in for her Father and older brother, still in King's Landing. The chant was taken up by the rest of the guests - tankards and goblets drumming on tables, boots crashing on floors, hands clapping together - a cacophony of noise seldom heard away from the battlefield.
Within moments Arya was surrounded by women, from maidens to old crones, scullery maids to the wives of the Great Lords, they squeezing and grasping her, driving her towards the door. "Fuck her arse." "Make her cunt bleed." "Suck her teats" Even the high-borns felt free to offer suggestions at this time.
Near her Sansa was squealing and laughing, her beautiful face wreathed in smiles as she was chivvied and driven by the menfolk towards the door which led from the hall and to the Arya's chambers. Those nearest her were slapping her arse or giving her titties a gentle squeeze. Some weddings went further, the guests almost stripping the bride before they got to the bedroom. Arya had made clear that she didn't want that; Sansa might have outwardly acquiesced for not wanting to shame her new husband, but she was a gentle soul and wouldn't have enjoyed the public shaming. Anyway Arya wanted what was beneath all for herself.
The two Stark sisters arrived at the door almost at the same time, a grinning guard opening it and standing aside. "Shall we?" grinned Arya at her new wife.
"My lady," Sansa smiled back holding her hand out at shoulder height for Arya to take.
It would have been a very dignified hand in hand exit. Too dignified, Arya didn't want to shame her sister, but she didn't want to be demure - it was a bedding. She grabbed Sansa under her legs tipping her into her arms and scooping her up. Sansa squeaked in surprise and then smiled as Arya looked down at her and growled "Bedding now wife."
She stepped through the door kicking it closed behind her and muffling the whoops and the catcalls behind her. Sansa smiled up at her, her arms wrapping round her sister's back, "Are you taking me to your chambers now?"
"Yes, let me carry you there," said Sansa as she began to climb the stairs. Sansa was taller than her, but willowy and slender; if you could carry a set of plate you could carry your bride. The redhead kept her eyes on Arya's face as they climbed, smiling shyly but lovingly, ready to loose her maidenhood to Arya and to be pleasured by her new husband. It didn't take them long to get to the chambers. Arya pushed the door aside with her shoulder and carried her wife over the threshold, "Here we are" she said and gently lowered her.
"Thank you for the lift my lady," Sansa smiled and curtsied, "Shall we disrobe now?"
"Oh yes," grinned Arya. Her sister turned and sat at the dresser and began to unpin the net that held up her hair, placing the diamond and ruby pins in a small wooden jewellery box. Behind her Arya wasted no time in stripping out of her wedding suit and her small clothes. Naked she moved to stand in front of the roaring fire, her feet brushing over the furry bear rug in front of it. She waited until her sister had removed the net and let her long red hair fall, shimmering under the torches, before stepping behind her and began to unlace her gown from the back. As she did so she pushed Sansa's hair over her shoulder so she had easy access for her back and neck, peppering them with little kisses.
Sansa giggled and Arya could see her smile in the mirror. Arya smiled back, kissing the side of her wife's neck, as her hands moved round to the front to unlace the bodice at the front. It didn't take long before they were loose enough that the teats were out, Arya gently holding them and rubbing with her things as her lips continued to explore her sister's throat up to under her ears. Sansa smiled prettily as her sister kissed her moving her hands to slowly pull down her dress, leaving her just in her silken kiss. Both of them moved at once, Sansa pulling one strap off her shoulder and Arya the other. The smallclothes slipped to the floor leaving them as naked as each other.
"Come in front of the fire," murmured Arya, she took her sister's hand and led her across the cold stone floor to the rug. She turned the redhead towards her and drank in her naked beauty. "Let me taste," she grinned and dropped to her knees in front of her sister.
She looked at the twat, so lovely, a tiny trim of red hair above it marking her sister as a woman, but leaving most of the cunt freeing for Arya's pleasure.
"Oh Arya," gasped Sansa as the younger Stark's hands went round to grasp her arse, pulling her the last foot towards her. Her mouth opened and she licked lightly at the cunt, teasing her sister with her tongue. She went slow and delicately, to make sure Sansa was in the mood. From her sister's moans she quickly guessed she was and her tongue went faster, sliding up the slot and hitting the clit as her hands kneaded and played with her sister's round peaches.
"Oooohhh, Arya, ooooohhh, you don't know how much you pleasure me," moaned Sansa. Arya did, she'd been cunt-licked dozens if not hundreds of times herself and knew exactly how pleasurable it was, which was why she loved giving it to her sister. Her tongue moved faster and harder, working a groove between her sisters lips and dipping into the pink. The cunt was already wet and the juice tasted delicious on her tongue and if Sansa loved lemon cake, Arya loved cunny juice. She pushed harder, separating the lips and slipping deeper into her sister.
"Oooohhh, ooooohhh," Sansa trembled and cried, her head falling back and her eyes closing, as she Arya's tongue sped in. The younger Stark's hands rubbed and gripped her sister's arse cheeks, playing with the back as she tongued the front. The buttocks were so soft and round, perfectly malleable as if they'd been designed for Arya's amusement. Her tongue pounded forward, exploring and enjoying the twat in equal measure. She loved the sounds her sister was making above her, pants and groans and cries, as if she couldn't decide what noise to make. The redhead shuddered and shivered, her hands gently resting on Arya's shoulders. Arya moved her tongue out and shifted to the clit, hitting the bud with a passion.
Sansa squeaked more loudly, her body shaking with pleasure. "Aaaarrrghh, husband, Arya, oooohhhh, aaarrghhh. You pleasure me, ooohhhh by the Mother Above, please more."
Arya's tongue went as fast as she could do, driving forward so her sister rocked on the balls of her feet, squealing in pleasure, "AAaarrrrghhh, Arya, aaaaarrghhhh, please, please... aaaarggggghhh." Her body shuddered like the doom of Valyria, "Aaaarrrrghhh, aaaaaargghhh."
Breaking the tonguing Arya stood and brought her sister's mouth to hers, the redhead responded to the kiss with passion, tasting her own cum without complaint. After a moment Arya drew her head back, "You should do the same to me," she smiled, "Eat my cunt."
"Oh I can't," Sansa blushed, "I mean I've never done it before, I won't be any good."
"You will be good, wife," Arya said. She sat down on the rug, pulling her legs towards her and spreading them. She was as smooth as marble down there and she slid her fingers down to open her cunny for her sister.
Sansa paused for a second and then nervously got down first to her knees and then her stomach, replicating her sister's position of the yesterday. "If I'm bad..."
"You won't be bad..." said Arya's interrupting her. "Give it a go."

Sansa's tongue began to stroke her cunt, slowly and nervously. Arya gave a moan, more to encourage her sister than because anything was happening. It seemed to work as Sansa began to lick a little faster, moving up and down the slit and even touching the clitoral hood with just enough pressure for little songs of pleasure to sing to Arya. She grunted and looked down at her sister's bobbing head, her long tresses trailing down her back. "Good, you're doing good," she said encouragingly, her hand stroking down over the top of Sansa's scalp, the hair as soft as silk beneath her palm. "If you go faster and harder, press your tongue in."
Her sister complied and Arya let out a hiss of breath, for real, not false, as her sister's tongue drove at her cunny, forcing its way in and into her twat. Sansa paused, as if surprised she was in her sister and then she quickly resumed with an eagerness that Arya could not help but enjoy. Her sister's tongue was going faster and harder, slapping at the wet pink flesh of twat tunnel, the redhead's hands were on Arya's thighs, holding them, her fingers slowly tightening almost without realising it.
"MMmnnn, uurrhhh," Arya let her breath out and then gulped it again. She had hoped Sansa would pleasure her with her tongue tonight, though she had worried she might be too nervous and she'd have to wait a few days until her wife picked up the confidence. But she had been sure that even if Sansa was going down it would be a work of many moons before she was seriously good at tonguing twat, but here she was, her first time, going for it with a passion and energy that was adorable. Her older sister's tongue pressed down the hole, finding the spot and running over it as Arya shuddered and moaned.
She felt hot and warm, the fire blazing away beside her was part of it, as was the bear's soft fur under her back, but far from all. Sansa's tongue went deeper and deeper, slipping and sliding round the wet walls. The redhead went faster and harder, making Arya's cunt soak with her juice and stoking the flames within, until it seemed her blood was boiling and her sweat was covering her skin like molten steel dripping down a melting blade. "Ooooohhh," she gasped, "Oooooohhh, urrrrrhhh, aaaaaarghhh."

The pleasure was within her, screaming and crying, a wave of ecstasy, "Aaaarrrghhh, yesssss, aaarrrrgghhh."
Sansa raised her head, an expression midway between worry and pride, "Are you alright? Was I good?"
"You were," Arya panted, before sitting up and raising her sister into a sitting position, "I loved you pleasing my twat, it was enjoyable." She kissed Sansa lightly, leaving her lips against her wife's for long seconds, tenderly touching. She stood, "Wait here," she commanded and walked over to her chest.
"What is that?" Sansa asked as her wife walked back with the contraption.
"Some call it the 'woman's weapon'," said Arya, she smiled "It's a sword of a type which needs another woman's sheath."
"It looks big," said Sansa, "How does it work?"
"It is. Feel it," offered Arya, offering it out to her sister's touch.
"It's wood," her sister stroked the polished phallus, before squeezing it gingerly and then a little harder, "It's soft and solid, not like wood feels at all."
"More like a man's cock, bigger than most," explained Arya, "It's from a tree on the Summer Isles, they make the woman's weapon there. She tapped the leather harness, making it swing beneath the sword, "I wear it for fucking, it goes in you."
"Oh," Sansa blushed, "Like when dogs and horses mate."
"Similar," smiled Arya, "Though they'll be no baby in your belly."
"I know that," her sister laughed blushingly. She looked up at Arya, "I am your woman, my lady, let me be your sword's sheath."

Arya bent over to kiss her sitting sister's forehead and Sansa blushed again, this time in pleasure. "Help me put it on, tighten the straps around my thigh." Sansa did as she was asked, though she was so used to others tightening her belts for her that she didn't do much and in end Arya tightened her own straps as Sansa knelt in front of her, her gaze alternating between the wooden cock and her sister's face. Arya smiled, looking back at her wife, so lovely with her beautiful teats and long red hair, shadows dancing over her. "Do you see the jar on the shelf, there is some lotion in it, rub it on your hands and then the wood, it makes it slide in more easily."
Sansa quickly did as she was asked, returning to her knees and rubbing her hands over the smooth wood, "Like this?" she asked, looking up at her sister again.
"Yes, really rub it in, slather it. It's large and this is your first time, so it be easier for you the more it's oiled."
Her sister nodded and concentrated on rubbing the ointment in, her teats jiggling as she bent forward, her hands working over the fake dick. She scooped out more of the goo and slipped it over the cock, looking up at Arya as if seeking her approval. Arya grinned and nodded, giving it her. "I think that should be ready now," she said, looking down at the glistening weapon.
Her sister nodded and smiled, "My sheath is ready," she giggled and briefly touched herself down below, before snatching her finger away as if her cunt was boiling.
"Lie on your back," said Arya and watched as her sexy sister did that. "Open your legs for me, good, I can see your welcome."
The cunt was damp, pinkly succulent and ready for fucking. Arya got down on her knees beneath her sister and moved on top of her, guiding her weapon to it's sheath. The point pressed in, penetrating the twat and she could hear her sister moan and feel her tremble. Arya continued to push it gently in, there was no hurry and she wanted to make sure Sansa was ready for it and had a wondrous experience as possible, she wanted her to remember their wedding night as a time of their joined joy. Her sister moaned again and raised her hips, encouraging Arya in. "Oh enter me, take my maidenhood."
"Tell me if I'm going to hard," Arya said as she pushed the wooden cock deeper. The walls were tight and firm, gripping at the dick, the slurps of her entrance a counterpoint to the crackle of the logs burning on the fire and the gentle moans of her sister. Arya lifted herself and pushed in again, ready to stop at Sansa's ask. Her sister gave another little groan, her legs moving up to squeeze Arya's and her hands moving from the rug to her sister's back. Arya went in again and then again, pushing the cock further each time.
"Oh, my wife, it feels so good to have you on top of me," Sansa smiled, her teeth glinting in the firelight.
"It feels good for me," Arya smiled back and thrust, deeper and harder. Her sister gave a little gasp, her fingers digging at Arya's back and her smile becoming wider.
The younger Stark moved faster, pushing the cock into her sister's waiting cunt. Sansa gasped and cried in pleasure, her head pushing back on the rug, her hair spread like a head-dress over it. Arya body bounced down on her, squashing Sansa's teat, feeling their softness under her and then sensing them springing back as she rose again, only to be pancaked by her rapid descent.
"You're in me," cried Sansa as Arya went all the way down, burying her sword all the way into it's pink target, Up she went and down again, faster and faster, harder and harder, vigorously pounding the twat, spearing again and again as if she was in battle. Her sparring partner wasn't complaining, gasping and moaning, her hips lifting to meet her sister's weapon with her own, her teats bouncing and jiggling as her body arched and bent. "Oh my love, oooohhh, yes, ooooohh."
Arya shoved again and again, her mouth seeking her sister's throat to lick and kiss the pale skin as she fucked her. The redhead squealed merrily and her hands squeezed and clawed at Arya's back, "Oh more, yes oooohhh, in me please, don't stop."
Over the last few years, ever since her first whore, Arya had fucked dozens of women, from whores and camp followers to highborns and merchant's daughters. Some had been as floppy as a fish, some as cold as the fabled Night King, some had screamed loudly and some had gone about the business with a grim determination. Many had been good, some terrible and a few excellent, but none had been like her maiden sister. It wasn't just the eagerness with which Sansa was fucking her back nor her loud and pleasured screams. It wasn't even her tight grip nor her perfect teats. There was something else, a spiritual connection as well as the physical.
The physical was hellish good though. Arya grinned and thrust in harder and faster, her own cunt raining like a autumn day. The sword ploughed its furrow, the wet flesh clinging and slurping like mud on a boot, juice trickling from the hole like an overflow of wine from a goblet and Sansa squealed once more, "AAArrrghh, do not stop.... aaaaarrgghhh, Mother Above."
"Huh, huh, huh," Arya panted and pounded. The weapon's haft rubbed at her with every thrust and sweat dripped from her forehead, juice from her twat. She pounded down again and again, her stamina and strength honed by days of wearing plate and nights of fucking, of swinging swords at knights and plunging swords at night. Her sister squealed more, her body shuddering and shaking, her hands clawing at Arya. Arya kissed her neck again, lowering her head to a teat, suckling that as her hips and arse rose and fell, spearing in. She was panting heavily now, grunting with exertion as she gave her all, burning and sweating. Still she thrust, ramming her weapon down.
Her sister screamed again, rocking with pleasure. "AAarrrrghhh, yesss, aaaaarghhh."
Arya thrust again and then fell forward panting. Her sister lay back, embracing her, her own breath fast and fevered as she recovered from her pleasuring. Arya nestled her head comfortably on Sansa's teats, using them as pillows.
"My lady, that was wonderful, even better than yesterday," said Sansa, "I was in heaven with you."
"Good, fucking does that," Arya lifted her enough so that her sister's could see her smile.
"You'll pleasure me more?" her wife asked, "Like that?"
"I will, it's my duty," grinned Arya, "To fuck you every night. It's one I intend to honour."

"I am so glad you took my maidenhood," said Sansa, "You made me whole."
Arya kissed one of the perfect teats, "Come to into the bed my wife, the fire will soon cool." Already the flames had were dying, the logs breaking into glowing embers.
Arya pulled back the heavy fur blanket and climbed in, her wife crawling in the other side. The youngest Stark slipped over, still wearing her woman's weapon and slid her arms round her wife, "Cold?" she asked, gently kissing at her sister's bare shoulder.
"No, not now," giggled Sansa, she bent her back so it snuggled comfortably into her sister's stomach, their naked skin brushing together. Arya's slipped a hand over her sister, stroking the teat, teasing the hardening nipple between finger and thumb. Even as she was doing that her other hand was creeping down to slide over the redhead's peach-like arse cheeks and down between them to find the still wet cunt. Sansa tittered, her body relaxing against her sisters; "I'm becoming quiet hot again."
Arya pushed away her sister's hair, before her hand returned to stroke the bosom. Her lips pressed lightly at the nape of the neck, kissing the flawless pale skin. It was so perfect she couldn't stop, her lips pursing and releasing as she moved up and down, smothering it with dozens of little tiny pecks. Her sister giggled, rubbing her back into Arya, her twat getting damper and damper, as Arya's fingers moved over the fuckhole.
Pressed against her sister she felt her strength and stamina return, her twat itching to fuck. Her lips moved from the neck up around the jawbone edge to her the ear. She kissed the lobe, "I want to fuck you in the arse."
Her sister blushed, "Your weapon is so big for that hole."
Arya leaned over her sister, her own naked teats swinging and Sansa turned to look at her. Arya nodded, "It'll stretch you," she said, "I won't tell you false, it'll hurt at first, but many women like it."
"Many? Not all?" Sansa looked nervously.
"Not all, but if you don't we won't do it. I don't want us to be doing something that won't pleasure you," Arya said.
Her sister smiled prettily, "I'm sure I will enjoy it my husband."
And if you don't you will lie and tell me you do,
Arya thought as she read her sister's intentions and recognised her desire to be the perfect wife. Arya loved her for and resolved to listen carefully to hear the falsity in her sister's cries so that if she did mislike it they would not do it again. Out loud she said, "I'll go slow and gentle at first."
"Does it needed oiled again?" Sansa asked.
"No, its still nicely slippery," Arya said, pushing her sister onto her side again. Her hand moved to her wife's rounded arse, stroking the smooth skin and slowly easing the top away from its partner. Her other hand gripped her sword, the ointment on it making her hand feel damp like she was sweating before battle. She slowly brought it forward, stopping as soon as it touched her sister's rosebud.
Sansa shivered and Arya kissed her back gently, "Tell me if you want me to stop," she commanded.
"I will," her sister lied so fluently that Arya almost believed her. She kissed her again, massaging the rounded rear reassuringly and pushed the tip of the weapon into her wife, splintering the sphincter. Sansa gave a little squeak and then clamped her mouth shut as if she feared the slightest sound would be taken as a call for her sister to stop. Arya did pause, but only for a moment as she moved her hand from the arse to the cunt, stroking at the wet fuckhole.
She kissed her sister again, "You're doing good," and shoved the weapon a little further. The redhead trembled, but kept her mouth shut. Arya's finger slid over her cunt, feeling it warm wetness and hoping that pleasuring one hole would relax the other. "Just let me in."
Her weapon pushed further into the maiden arse passage, fighting the tough walls desperate to keep the intruder from advancing further up the passage. Arya pulled back and then went in again, forcing her weapon deeper, beating back the defenders. It was a battle of a different sort, the weapons different and the outcome more pleasurable, but it was still forged in sweat and effort and strength. She pushed forward again, grunting with effort. Her sister trembled and squealed, that was the other side of the battle, the pain, the weapons penetrating deep into flesh. Arya hoped that it was worth it and that there would be a victory for her sister as well as herself. Her finger pressed in her sister's cunt, tickling it. "You're so wet."
"Oh," Sansa gasped, her body shaking, "Am I doing it right? I'm not too tight for you? I can't help it."
"It'll go in, it'll just take a little effort," Arya spoke with experience and even as she was saying it she was feeling the walls loosen and the wooden cock push in faster. She continued to grip it though as she shoved and worked it in deeper, opening the hole. Her sister trembled again, her cunt soaked over Arya's finger. "That's right," Arya said, "My cock's going in."
"I can feel it my love, oooohhh, I can feel it. It's sore, but good," Sansa moaned, her own hand moved to her twat, rubbing it with her sister. "I can feel the pleasure. Oooohh, it stretches."
"You'll get used to it," Arya confirmed, her hand moving to the cunt and gripping her sister's waist. "Is it getting easier?"
"Oooohh, it is, its getting deeper, its finding places... oooohhh Arya, pleasure me, make my backside happy like you did to my ladyhole," Sansa moaned and shuddered, her elbow shaking and banging as she finger-fucked her cunt. Arya smiled, glad that her sister was enjoying it and upped her speed, pressing the fake phallus harder and deeper into the hole.
The walls retreated, battered and bruised like they'd just lost a joust, the hole opening for Arya's cock to drive in. The youngest Stark hammered, pushing the dick deeper. Her sister shook again, her body arching and her back pressing at Arya. Arya held her and thrust forward, forcing the weapon in. "OOoohh," Sansa groaned, the sound full of pleasure, "Ooooohhh, this is so good."
"I'm almost all the way in," Arya said, her hand moving up to knead a teat.

"Put it in, I want it all," moaned Sansa.
Arya complied, ramming forward, battering the final anal gates away and conquering the arsehole fully. Her sister cried out in pleasure, her body shaking and rocking against Arya's, her fingers slipping into her cunt as her other hole was hammered. Arya didn't stop, but continued to bang. The blankets rustled above her and the mattress shook and sank, a downy feather escaping to float in the air. "You can tell me to stop," she panted, though she was sure her sister wouldn't.
"Oooohhh, no, don't, pleasure me Arya, oooohhh make my bottom ache with your weapon, I want it so much, it is so good," Sansa moaned and shuddered.
Arya grinned and pounded, her hand rubbing and squeezing one of her sister's marvellous teats as she arse-fucked her. The redhead squealed and gasped, seemingly enjoying the fucking the harder and faster her sister pounded. Arya listened out for falseness, but there was no sign of it and it was a well known fact that women could not act, only men (and normally low-born at that). She thrust again and listened to her sister's cry, it was passionate and intense and full of joy. Arya cupped and squeezed the teat and rammed happily.
"AAaaarrrghh, aaaarrghhh, oooohhh, my insides are boiling, pleasure me, my lady love, aaaaarrgghhh," Sansa shrieked, her head pressing back at her sister's and her long hair draping down her like a tapestry, "Aaaaarrrghhh, your weapon is so strong, oooohhh, its penetrating my bottom so deep."
Arya rode her new wife fast and hard, slamming her weapon into the broken keep. It rubbed at her as she pounded and whilst her grunts were not as loud or as passionate as her arse-fucking loving sister, they were still driven by pleasure. She slammed in and out, rocking back and forth. The mattress waved below them, soft and comforting. The last light of the fire went out and all that was visible were dark shadows, barely illuminated by the shine of stars beyond the shutters. "Aaaarrrghhh," screamed Sansa, "Aaaaarggghh."
If she was able to speak she didn't say anything. Never truer had been their words, 'Winter is Cumming'.
Sweat poured down Arya, more than when she'd worn a full suit of plate and jousted, more even than when she'd stood next to the forge watching her new sword being hammered from molten iron. She panted with exertion, her heart pumping with the effort, her muscles aching as she went as hard and fast as she could. Her sister screamed out again, no words interrupting the shrill cries of ecstasy. Arya pumped as fast as she could, making the mattress sway with her passion, as she loved her sister with an intensity she'd had never loved another woman with. The redhead shrieked and cried, her body rocking with every pound.
Until even Arya couldn't continue. She panted as she pulled her weapon out. Her sister sighed and collapsed against her, the redhead's body relaxing into Arya's. The younger Stark reached down and stroked the arse hole, it was craterous, like the entrance to an open cast mine. Her sister didn't seem to mind, "That was wonderful, Arya, you pleasured me so well."
"Good Sansa, now you're my wife I'll be regularly wanting my conjugal rights," Arya grinned.
Her sister tittered, "I hope so."
*
If you have any views on this or any other of my stories, please e-mail me at llfic72@gmx.co.uk
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Winter is Cumming