Gingerly I teased out the plug, which promptly slipped free, and set it aside. I laid the tip of my cock under her and shoved, letting it skid across her wet hole and the angry nub of her clit. Then I brought it back and slipped it inside her, with only the slightest resistance. I grabbed onto those enormous love handles, and pressed into her.

Eager flesh gripped me tightly, wet heat washing over my senses. For someone who'd been celebate for decades, she sure knew her way around a dick. 

"G-d, that's good. Is this how you like it, Grantre?"

"You fokking know it, Blekksprutgutt. Give me more."

I was giving her maybe half my length, casually but not gently. But the height differential was making it tricky to get any deeper. Ah, well, no one said monsterfucking would be easy. I shoved down on the small of her back, propelling me up onto my toes.

"There, there! Oh, creation!"

"Yeah, that's good. Can you spread your knees a little?"

Once I was back flatly on my feet, I could go harder. My thighs clapped sharply against that giant ass.

She started in again with the melodious moans, and this time, I joined her with some of my own as I plumbed deep into her mighty cunt. In teasing her, I suppose I'd also been teasing myself. I didn't have many occasions to wield the XL space dick. And while I generally no longer worried about having particular hardware to avoid dysphoria in the act, wielding the XL was uniquely over-the-top, a real treat. Not unlike the first time I, as a top, strapped on a dick that would have scared me as a bottom, and saw a partner's eyes light up.

"Get it," I murmured, "get it, get it." I wasn't sure I was audible, and I doubted I'd have made any sense to her. But the words just came. It was like I'd experienced time dilation, and the world was moving too fast for my little mind to handle.

"I could do this all day," said Grýla.

She had a point. It was a supremely workable position given our respective sizes. I could tell she was having a grand time, but something. So I extended a dainty little tendril, wrapped it around her clit, and massaged it.

Like an itch scratched well, the effect did not go unnoticed.

"Oof, fokk..."

I went back up on my toes a moment, and let gravity lend a hand. Instant shudders. She tightened around me even more, and I leaned into it, blissed the fuck out. Little by little I felt her train of thought melt, and finally derail, tumbling down into pleasurable abandon with a titanic splash, my own not far behind.

"Stars and moons and worlds and the infinite... nnnnhh!"

I tried to catch up, but couldn't... her spasms of ecstasy had strangled the life out of my erection, or as much of it as was buried in her. So I stopped, and took a minute to revive myself while she panted and sighed.

"Again?" I suggested. Try another position?"

Grýla nodded yes to both. So we tried a few. Missionary was insane—imagine, me face down in a pair of enormous pillowy breasts, kissing and fondling them, overstimulating the shit out of my ecstatic troll partner's clit, and breathing through the pain when her fingernails dug into my shoulder blades as she came repeatedly, legs shuddering. Then I had her roll over onto her side, which offered me a better range of entry angles than doggy style. Didn't do as much for her, though.

I've mentioned previously I have rather little self-preservation instinct at times. As such, I also assented to try cowgirl. Assisted, of course, by my own tentacles wrapped around her thighs to support her. That was a fucking workout, but I let her ride for long enough to rock and roll her way to a powerful orgasm. That one drenched me, and the bed. And thankfully, it seemed to wear her out too. We both sat back panting for several minutes afterwards.

"I think that makes it officially a marathon," I declared, wiping sweat from my brow. "Time for a water break."

I downed most of my 1L Hydroflask while sitting there; Grýla murdered a gallon jug.

"Shit, what time is it? Four thirty?! Time flies when you're pounding it out."

"I suppose you've more than fulfilled your promise, Blekksprutgutt. Do you need to turn in for the night?"

I thought about it a moment. The spirit was tired; but the flesh still wanted for something. "Not quite. I think I've got one more left in me."

"What's left to do? You want to take my fitte from behind again?"

"No. I want to stick my cock in your ass so deep that it pokes Satan's eyeball."

That got the rich cackle it deserved, and before I could say anything further, she was assuming the position on all fours.

"This is going to be tricky," I said. "But I have an idea."

With her knees spread and arms bent, she could get low enough, but only just. She tugged at her right cheek to spread herself open, and I slid the slender pod in and out, with little resistance.

"That's nice, but is it necessary?"

I patted her ass softly. "Just making sure we're ready." 

"Get on it, we're wasting night... fokk, fokking fokk..."

"And that's just the tip. Alright, easy, easy..."

Gently I stroked her back, making meaningless coos and susurrations. Over the years, I've somehow evolved the habit of trying to soothe my bottoms during anal penetration like a ranch hand soothes a nervous animal. Maybe it was all that time watching Uncle Chuck guide horses. I've been called cute for it, and I've been called a lunatic for it, but damned if it doesn't get results.

...And good. The toughest bit was past. Slowly I moved in and out of her. Of necessity, the angle was a bit funny, but what mattered was her getting comfortable.

"You said you had... oof... an idea?"

"In a minute. But first..."

I slid deeper into her ass, watching carefully for any indication of discomfort... until there was nothing more I could give with both feet planted.

"This okay?"

"More than okay. Now what?"

This was going to be either the most impressive sexual feat since my ascension, or a very quick trip to a smashed face and broken tooth. I could heal all that; still, I was trepidatious as I pulled back. Now here's something few lovers can do...

I put my hands on her hips, shot out a quartet of nice strong octopus arms, and latched onto her thighs and shoulders, lifting my body off the ground.

"Hva i helvete?!"

"It's okay, hon. I'm a professional monsterfucker. I got this."

Hovering loosely over the small of Grýla's back, it was a cinch to slip my dick in, put my hands to her waist and just sink into her.

The results were immediate. Heat, and immense pleasure, and her whole body lurched shifting her weight forward onto her arms. Her whole lower body tensed.

"Faen!" she cried. "Faen! Fokk me with your hestkuk!"

I'm not really sure what she was thinking, but the giantess stood up nearly to her full nine foot height, here in the only spot in the house where it was even possible, only to think better of it and lean herself over the couch. I'd pay good money to know what faces she made to accompany all that creative cursing. At any rate, I sensed no pain, just the sensory avalanche of heavy bottoming.

I felt like Doc Ock and Manny Ferrara somehow rolled into one bizarre character sheet.

Out shot a pair of squid tentacles, because fuck it, it'll be dawn soon, why not take it to 11 at this point. One got a nice firm grip on her clit, the other began to tease its way into her cunt. The giantess's trembling hands dug into the back of the couch for stability as our bodies rocked. I shut my eyes and pressed my forehead up against the blade of her left shoulder.

A flash of shared awareness. I was the giantess, bent over a couch too puny to seat me. Grýla was the speck of a man who clung to my back, his absurd horsecock filling me, the monstrosity within him reaching out to touch the monstrosity within me. 

I snapped back into my own head. She was panting, both her holes throbbing faintly with orgasm, but what'd passed between us had momentarily stolen her voice.

"Forpulte faen," she said, "what was that?"

"One of my... gifts."

"Take me harder."

I pounded and pounded, sweat pouring from me, stupid grin on my face.

I couldn't sustain much more than I was doing, but I gave it what I could. Skin clapped on skin; and with every blow, I flexed my cephalopod arms slightly. Her cries began to take on more of a heavy metal quality. I knew it was still pleasure, but one could have been forgiven for guessing otherwise. Both of us were on the verge of overstimulation, mouths slack, ragged with pleasure. And deep in my guts, I was building up to one of those tectonic finishes that I knew would leave me utterly exhausted.

"Fill me," she singsonged. "Fill my rævhøl with your cum."

"Say that again."

"Fill my rævhøl with your cum."

The words hit me like a crosswind, and I crash-landed into chaos. The surging erection and spasming tentacles stretched her as I emptied completely into her ass. I kept up the motions as my fire flickered out. Your move, Grýla...

She threw back her head and screamed, her bits throbbing against my bits.

Finally, gasping for breath, I let the tentacles unwind and sank back to my feet.