Leif reached over to the night table, stroking my clit with his thumb. To my relief he grabbed a bottle of lube from the drawer. Getting both us nice and slick, he capped the lube again and began to stroke the warm head of his beautiful cock against my open and ready pussy.
Easing himself in, making me feel every inch, Leif got his cock inside all the way to the hilt. Backing off a bit to make room, he lubed up something that I didn’t recognize but that kind of reminded me of a dildo and then reached behind me. I yelped with surprise as the chilly wet tip touched my asshole. Leif stroked my belly again, relaxing me enough to to slip it in.
“How does that feel, jellybean?”
“Really good, sir.”
With the buttplug deep in my ass, stretching me out, Leif stared to fuck my pussy, working his massive manhood inside until I thought I might scream. And then I did, loudly, letting all the pleasure I was feeling out at once. There was no other way to accurately express it.
The world started to spin. I had to close my eyes and focus to remain conscious. I didn’t want to miss a thing.
“Marry me,” Leif said, embracing me in the afterglow.
“What?” I asked, not sure I had heard him correctly.
“You are the one for me. I want to marry you, to be Polly’s stepdad, maybe even adopt her if you agree. I also want to have more babies with you. Now that we can actually be together, I never want to let you go again.”
I couldn’t speak. I was so happy I could scream. Or cry. Probably both at once. In the end I went with a response that was a touch less melodramatic.
“Yes. Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!”
Epilogue
Leif
I always cried at weddings. Not just because most of them happened in the spring and I had a tendency toward hay fever. I never thought I would cry at my own, though. I could only hope that my cheeks were pale enough that no one would notice.
There had been a minor disagreement in terms of who would officiate. Brigid’s family wanted a Wiccan priestess and my side argued strongly for an ancient Norse priest. I was fairly neutral on the subject, mostly just wanting Brigid to be happy, and we compromised with a combination of a Justice of the Peace and a Druid elder.
Brigid looked beautiful, dressed in a flowing gown of the style generally referred to as Pre-Raphaelite, jelly-bean-red hair done up in an elaborate braid, the whole thing topped with a daisy crown. Her baby bump showed subtly through the blue velvet.
Polly followed close behind, flinging seasonal flowers about the place, in a baby version of her mother’s dress. She had turned three by the wedding day, and was walking a lot better, in addition to having added a few hundred more words to her vocabulary.
Both the wedding and the reception were held in the woods. Our families agreed that it was lovely. Even Brigid’s dreaded sister perked up a bit despite her obvious bitter envy.
“Come with me, honey,” I said, touching Brigid gently on the arm.
“What’s up?”
“I think it’s time we gave your sister her present.”
Meegan was by the punch bowl. The one with vodka in the mix that only the guests were supposed to drink from. Rooms had been made up in the house for anyone too drunk to drive.
Her dress, a slightly simpler version of the one Brigid was wearing, looked perfect on her. Natural. She had already asked if she would be able to keep it.
“Meegan?”
“Oh, hello,” she said, at least trying to be civil.
“We have something for you. Kind of a combination maid-of-honor gift and a thanks for letting me stay with you so long.”
“Thank you,” Meegan said, her face stony.
The paper dropped away and Meegan suddenly looked like she might cry. The book was large and leather-bound. The title was etched into the aged brown leather in Gaelic.
“It can’t be – I mean, not the original.”
“No, it’s a copy, but a damn good one. 11th century, according to my research. The illuminations are quite beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Meegan said, humbleness emanating from her very core.
I had another present to give her, though.
“I would like you to meet my brother, Sven,” I said.
“Does he look like you?” Meegan asked, as though she was dreaming.
“He’s my twin, so, yes. Though our mother says I’m the handsome one. To be fair to him, he made his money as a lawyer, which is something I could have never done. You might have heard of them. Olafssen and associates?”
“Your brother is Sven Olafssen?” Meegan asked, a certain gleam in her eye.
“According to our mother.”
“Wow. That’s great. Thank you!”
Brigid
I had never seen Meegan so happy. We hadn’t had the best upbringing, which at least partly explained her adult personality. She couldn’t protect me from our abusive father when we were kids, so she started protecting me ever since.