Girl on the Net

Most people who have watched Game of Thrones have a favourite character: specifically one they’d most like to fuck. If yours is Danaerys or Jon Snow, you’re more than welcome to them. Personally I’ve a bit of a soft spot for Ygritte, and an incredibly wet spot for Oberyn Martell. But two other characters do it for me faster than the Hound devouring a roomful of chicken, and I would give my soul for the chance at a Game of Thrones threesome that starred my two faves: Tyrion and Bronn.

When I first watched Game of Thrones (mostly for the surprise TV filth), my favourite character was Tyrion. By not just a mile but a light-year. He is hot in a kind of bedraggled way (especially when he’s sad about Shae, because holy shit do I love a man in need of a little comfort), and he’s also got words. Words like I could only ever dream of. No one in real life could ever match the quick wit of Tyrion Lannister. And on top of that – a characteristic that should absolutely never be underestimated – Tyrion is basically a nice bloke. Sometimes he fucks things up, but he’s always striving to do the right thing.

But there’s something extra about him that turns him from ‘swoon’ material and into ‘seriously get inside me right now’ material, and it only truly occurred to me when I had to expand the sex fantasy and include one other character: Bronn.

Threesome with Tyrion and Bronn

You know exactly how a threesome with Tyrion and Bronn would go down. I’d be hanging out in a tavern or a brothel somewhere, maybe serving drinks or food or just being paid to hang around and laugh at their jokes. It wouldn’t be much of a struggle because Tyrion and Bronn are a well-matched pair when it comes to friendly banter: they can both be a bit dark and sweary. Tyrion is more flowery while Bronn is quite direct. And neither takes the other too seriously – it’s more likely that a disagreement would turn into a laugh than the other way around.

Anyway. At some point one of them suggests that we head to a more private room for a bang. The other raises an eyebrow, tosses some money on the table, and then we all head back there together. There is booze (because they both love a drink and so do I), more chatting and pisstaking (same), and then we bang vigorously for a while. Tyrion, in my head, is a more creative lover. Maybe he picks up a glass of nicely-aged red wine from the table next to the bed, pours it all over my tits and then buries his face in the resulting sexy mess. Maybe he takes my hands and softly places them on his cock, showing me exactly how to pleasure him.

Meanwhile Bronn – brash, direct and obsessed with his own dick – is downing more wine and just eagerly sticking it in whichever hole I present for him, while commenting loudly on what a dirty wench I am, and grinning from ear to ear.

Afterwards, when we lie spent and exhausted on the bed, neither of them would ask if I’d had a good time: they would have already made sure that I did.

What do you desire the most?

I’ve only told you that little story, which is basically some poorly-written Game of Thrones slashfic, because it gets to the heart of something I really love. Although my favourite character – the one I’d most want to shag – would be Tyrion, when I had to include someone else for hypothetical threesome purposes, I picked Bronn, because he is absolute filth and entirely comfortable with that. It made me realise that what I love about Tyrion isn’t just his wit: it’s the way he’s so comfortable with his sexuality. With his horniness.

Tyrion Lannister (in the TV show, not the books) seems comfortable with his desires – the quantity and intensity of them as well as the type. He falls in love with Shae, and being a loving person causes him problems, but ultimately he never rejects his love of sex itself, or treats it as shameful. Likewise Bronn. Bronn lusts after money and a castle, for sure, but ultimately he’s made a conscious choice that the main priority for him is his dick. He earns money so he can spend it on fucking, and he wants a castle because it will earn him more money to spend on fucking.

These two gentlemen reminded me that love of sex is often a sexy thing in its own right. And if I ever ran into this pair in Westeros, I’d be happy to wax lyrical about why this is… ideally over some wine and a spitroast.

A brief post-blog addendum about why I would never fuck Jon Snow

This is kind of a weird blog post, but seeing as we’re doing weird shit and Game of Thrones, I’ve been wanting to get this off my chest for quite some time: 3 reasons I definitely don’t want to fuck Jon Snow.

1. He would ‘make love’ very gently and romantically, while staring intently into my eyes and that is literally the opposite of ‘my thing.’
2. He fetishises honour to such an extent that he would refuse to lie, and I think someone who is 100% honest in bed, with no ability to bend the truth in the name of flattery/niceness would probably be a dismal fuck.
3. This is the most important one. The dealbreaker: Jon Snow doesn’t know when to take his fucking coat off. Look, here he is with Danaerys. She is wearing a sort of jersey-dress thing that is suitable for the weather, he is buried under half a mammoth and what looks like 3 dead dogs. Here he is again, now in King’s Landing, where most people are wearing some sort of jerkin/shirt/dress/cape combo and he still insists on layering up in EXACTLY THE SAME CLOTHES HE WEARS WHEN HIKING ACROSS SNOW. I couldn’t bear the idea of slogging to the end of a very serious-faced date night (ten minutes on introductions, at least an hour while he drones on about his vows, some big drama including an ethical dilemma that he already knows the answer to) only to find that when we were shagging, he TOOK TWELVE YEARS TO REMOVE HIS PILE OF BLANKETS. He’d either have to shag me in full-on arctic explorer mode, or he’d be shivering to death because he’s used to wearing half a polar bear even in the most moderate climates. Take your coat off, Jon Snow, or when you get back up north you just won’t feel the benefit.