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I turned onto my side without him asking, spreading my ass to make it easier for him. Placing a hand on my hip, he carefully slid the butt plug firmly into place, deep in my asshole. I bit my lip to keep from screaming unless I thought it really hurt. Instead, it felt fucking amazing!
As the butt plug did its job, Logan once again used his tongue to bring me to a huge, body-shaking orgasm. When I was ready, he withdrew the butt plug, massaging the outside of my stretched little asshole. When I was ready, he slid the head of his cock into my asshole. I gasped and raised my hips just from that.
“You okay, honey?” he asked.
“Y-yes! Oh fuck, yes!”
He pushed half his cock in, actually making me scream that time. He had evidently learned to tell my screams of pleasure as well as my tears of joy because he then put a hand on my hip and started fucking me, stroking my pussy with his free hand.
I thought I might pass out from pleasure. I certainly felt light-headed. But before that could happen, Logan brought me to orgasm once again, physically holding me down to keep me from hurting myself as I jerked and screamed like I needed an exorcist. This was the most amazing orgasm of my life, and I was so happy to be sharing it with my fiancé.EpilogueKoraWe had to wait until early autumn for the ceremony. We would have done it earlier, but Brigette had been a bit overdue and we had wanted to wait until after she was born. A bit against tradition, I know, but neither Logan nor I were that keen on tradition anymore.
There were also practicalities to consider, such as the dress-fitting and the sailing honeymoon we had planned, it being a bit too far along in my pregnancy to go on an extended trip. Logan said the family's private doctor could have come along, just in case, but I decided not to risk it.
Not least because I wanted to actually be able to have sex on our honeymoon. Lots of rough, passionate, pounding, banging sex.
I smiled thinking about it as I walked up the aisle, likely looking as happy as I felt. Logan was up there of course, holding Brigitte. We had compromised on the middle name, Freyja likely bringing up numerous spelling errors and had settled on Brigitte Kristen Parker-Evans, this last double-barrelled upper crust surname being what both Logan and I were going to be after we married, deciding the hyphenation was the best way to go.
We flipped a coin to see which name would be first. I still think Logan may have cheated, though I have yet to figure out how.
Logan had been an awesome dad, going far beyond what I had ever expected. He had been helpful during both the remainder of the pregnancy and the birth and had been really hands-on with Brigitte, doing everything he could to make my life easier as I recovered.
He did big things like moving the nursery from my apartment to a room in his mansion, setting it up exactly the way I had it, even painting the walls the same shade of violet. As well as little things like going to get Brigitte for her late night feelings, bringing her to me so I wouldn't have to get out of bed.
I would just sit there, sleepy but comfortable, as she nursed.
Even though I had been medically forbidden to fuck for the first little while, I sucked him off several times a day, whenever we could get some time to ourselves. Not as energetically as I had before or would later feel like being when things got more back to normal, but he still really seemed to enjoy it.
Kristen was up there at our ceremony with us, too. It only made sense that she be my maid of honor. She was both my only close friend and the closest thing I had to a sister.
I also couldn't imagine anyone else I could possibly want to be there with me. Logan had chosen his dad as his best man. It was nice to see them patch things up. I didn't really know his dad yet, only having met him briefly while Kristen and I were in high school when he checked in on sleepovers and that, but he'd always seemed really nice. Which partly went to explain the change I had seen in Logan.
He was becoming more like his dad. It was striking how similar they looked, which gave me a sort of window into what I could expect from Logan in another twenty or so years. Though I doubt Logan would even grow a beard, trimmed or not.
While I guessed Mr. Parker had grown the thing out in an attempt to fit in at the lumber camp— he had told me the whole story while we were planning the wedding— it still looked distinguished, the small flecks of early gray helping with this impression.
