I went to the kitchen to grab my now-cooled coffee. I took a few sips on the couch.

“So,” I asked as I set the mug down on a coaster, “you and he don't fuck anymore?”

Grýla shrugged and gritted her teeth.

“A few times in a century, nowadays. When I get my taste of outside sex, or bathe in the blood of a dozen children, I come home and... then he’s attracted to me. ‘My dear prune,’ he’ll say, ‘what became of you? You look daisy fresh. Come to me.’ And I let him fuck me, right then and there. I'm not needing it again so soon, but it’s nice to have his full attention. But two hours later, it's over, and then it’ll be a week before he feels the need. And then a month, a year, a decade, and I dry up and shrivel all over again. And the cycle repeats.”

I reached down to where she was sitting, and stroked her enormous head of hair. I didn’t know how she managed it, but she’d gone into the shower that afternoon looking heavily matted, come out looking decent and mostly detangled, and now, her head was an avalanche of shiny, arrow-straight white and straw-blonde strands.

“That, my mighty spruce tree of a woman, is tragic. If I could summon the dudes from Queer Eye, I'm sure we could fix your situation. But they're busy defending pink sauce, so fuck it. Assface and I will think of something. Did he tell you about the time we saved the planet?”

That seemed to lift her mood a little.

“Spruce tree, I like that. You can call me your Grantre.”

“Grantre? Okay, sure. Come here, Grantre,” I said, and I let my pants and briefs drop to my ankles. “I would love to see how you suck a cock.”

Which brings us to the second big surprise of the night.

Her eyes had that inscrutable predatory look as she leaned in close, gave the dick a confident stroke or two, pursed her lips and slid it between them. Her mouth was hot and cavernous; save for those powerful lips and tongue, I didn’t feel much, until she had taken half of my length and I brushed against something.

“Oh, that’s nice. What is… that?”

I could feel her swallowing, but it was distinctly inhuman in more ways than just the scale of our body parts. She seemed to have precise control over the throat muscles; I felt them grab onto my cock, tugging at the skin this way and that. She barely moved her head, and my hands were fidgeting idly at my sides; but deep in her mouth it was like a big wet hand jerking me.

I tossed my head back, thinking I might get to enjoy half a minute of this before she came away panting for air. But she just… kept… going. 

“Holy fuck,” I said. “Can you teach me how to do that?”

Only now did she lift her head to reply. “Another human, no way. You? Probably.”

My eyes shut tight with anticipation. I must have looked the very adult version of a kid on Christmas.

"I don't think I can take much more," I said, interrupting her as she was sinking down on my cock yet again. 

“Then bring it over here,” she said conspiratorially. “Let me swallow it while I finger you.” She lay back on the mattress, and gestured for me to come straddle her face.

It was a high-difficulty position for a blowjob, one I normally reserved for highly skilled dicksuckers like Josefina, and only at their request. However, as is so often the case in my “professional” life as a Morai-sa representative, human rules had gone out the window. I dropped to my knees, careful not to put weight on her neck; Grýla opened wide; and I turned out my hips, pushing me forward and into her.

I heard, and felt, the giantess fumbling around with something under her woolen skirt. Then I felt the huge finger, slicked up with her own lube, teasing my asshole.

How could anyone last two hours with this woman?

I had to sit still for a couple minutes, half buried in her face, concentrating hard to get my ass to relax. But then I was glad I had. That enormous finger reached up and into me and massaged my little pleasure button. I began to drip, dribble and then drool out a steady stream of thin cum, shivering with arousal.

Her free left hand started smacking my ass, goading me to thrust into her. Once she’d made clear what was expected of me, she went back to jilling off furiously, letting out little moans of ecstasy when a baseline human wouldn’t know how to breathe, much less vocalize, with a dick stuck in there that far.

And as advertised, I could not keep it together. The next time she spanked my ass, I reached out and grabbed two fistfuls of her lovely hair and shoved it in to the hilt, and held it there, hips twitching involuntarily with the undulations of her throat. I let it drag the orgasm out of me. This time it felt as abrupt and pent-up as a shotgun blast.

“Mmmnnnnn!” Grýla intoned, swallowing it all up, overstimulating me further.

“Fuck, shit, oh fuck I can’t take it, it’s too good, please I…” I cried, rather louder than intended.

I stood up awkwardly—which, let’s be honest, there’s no way other than awkwardly to dismount that position. I think cis men who’ve had their ego filled to the bursting point, because domspace is a real and dizzying thing, are too high on life to appreciate the visual ridiculousness of it all. I mean I slid out looking like the saddest little shrinking elephant, my legs rubbery with exhaustion.

My smile was weak but myrthful, and hers was satisfied and strong, as I stumbled over to lie down parallel to her.

“Shit, I don’t know about you but I think I need coffee and a snack. What the hell time is it even?” I checked my smartwatch. “Ten?!”

The giantess frowned. “We’ve only a little over half the night left.”

I wasn’t immediately sure what to say to that, so I asked myself what Tamaki Suoh would do. A host should always do his best to lift his guest’s spirits.

I gave her a sympathetic look as I reached out to caress her left tit.

“For what it's worth? I’m having such fun here, I don’t think I could let you go a century without paying me another visit. But we’ll figure that out in the morning. For right now”—and here I reached out a squid tentacle, patting her loudly on the belly with its club, a move shamelessly stolen from the Anomaly—“tell me what you want to do. Sit on my face? Get fucked? Get podded in all your holes?”

She wrinkled her brow uncertainly at that last option. "Squid tentacles," I explained. "You'll see."

Grýla considered this carefully.

"Hmmm. My fingren in your raeva felt nice... I can think of some things to try."