Nick's hands communed with tantalizing earth. His fingers explored the texture of living terrain, palms flattened into skin as he propped his legs into the opposite side behind him for balance. A weight as slight as his could've hardly said to have contributed at all to the loping contours of the gentle mountain before him. Yet it did, ever so infinitesimally.
Christine's chest ascended and fell in such slow revolutions as she steadied her breath to nigh imperceptible pace, it might've well been mistaken for the machinations of the actual planet, if Nick happened to live among his Omega goddess's breasts rather than the solid ground below. After a few minutes of standing upon her body, he'd achieved his sea legs, and could only notice her enormous inhalations now when he paused, planting his cheek down against the curvature of her towering bosom.
Their heartbeats, of course, had synced long before their breaths. Practically as soon as Nick pressed his hand into the slope of her, they were in time with one another. Her body heat, too, was shared as generously as the other rhythms felt through her flesh. Nick's brow warmed, his limbs already alive with tickling fire that extended tenfold into the area between his legs. Once he'd suitably aligned himself between the very base of Christine's massive breasts, his hands pressed to one side and his feet to the other, he gazed up above.
It was a harrowing task laid ahead, too be sure. He'd scaled some impressive heights in his time, sprinted some long distances, much further than this, but it was different nonetheless. This wasn't a challenge to be overcome, this was Christine. A first chance to make an impression in an arena where he'd yet to encounter her. Spry as he felt, and all the more so for the pulsing virility of this night, it was intimidating all the same.
But the Beta had no intentions of letting his teacher down. Not when she'd given him an assignment so important.
He couldn't help but crack a smile again at the thought of Christine's wickedly dirty foreplay jokes. It was nearly impossible to imagine them coming from the same woman he'd once met for the first day of Conflict Studies class and been nearly struck dumb with a single glance from those violet eyes and the crease of her laugh lines as she smiled on him.
Just then, a gift from above, as he'd come to expect from his dear. Just that little extra push he needed to succeed. A billowing lock of dark amber and chocolate hair pinwheeled in shimmering dance down from Christine's dangled fingers above, the river of it diverted from her crown. The velvety strands brushed along his cheeks and encircled his legs as the flared tip of her tress was unspooled around the Beta's body.
Nick draped himself in soft, delicate ropes of Christine's hair. He weighed each strand he passed over his palm, so slight yet insistent in its strength as he softly coiled himself into the falls. A single hair was enough to hold him, and he had hundreds. There was no way he wouldn't make the top now.
Secured in his support system, Nick emerged through the opposite brush of silken curtains compromising the Omega's mane. Then, pressing backward on his heels, the Beta launched himself into the steep incline of Christine's naked breast, at the peak of which, her finger patiently awaited his arrival.
Hand over hand, foot over foot, he moved, Christine's hair hooked over his shoulders and under his knees. No matter how physically capable he was of this climb, especially with her help, in this particular moment, there was the ever-present threat of embarrassing himself completely. He only hoped his miniscule appendages padding ticklishly up her skin didn't cause the woman to recoil with unavoidable irritation, or worse, be reminded of the sensation of a bug making itself at home on her flesh, and thus remove her finger as a result of poisonous second thoughts.
But so far, she hadn't. Another blessing, really.
Nick paused only briefly, alighting on the side of his love's breast, holding still with digits sunken into the shallow give of her luscious skin, lock of hair hugged to his cheeks. In the dim bedroom light, tinted by a lampshade the huge of winter-rosy cheeks, Christine's body took on a nearly russet sheen. Unable to help himself, the Beta dipped his chin down against the hill and planted a wet little peck. Gentle, at first, but when he heard the rumble of encouraging chuckling beyond, he went in for seconds. He languished for another minute, planting kisses long and deep, jaws squared to the firm topography of the Omega's lavish body, his gnat-like tongue in mania. He only hoped she could feel it, at any possible level of sensation.
When he finished there, Nick pressed one last biting smooch into the ample canyon wall, and continued the ascent. More than halfway up, he glanced to the side past the flowing hair and toward her distant face on the landscape. He was both surprised and pleased to see Christine had laid her head back down against the pillow, her broad lips parted, straining the release of hot air between her teeth. A sigh, lilting and delighted for all its quiet.
He was nearly there now. Without stopping, he dragged his lips along in a thin line up the eventually grounding slope, coming easier and easier now as he moved with a renewed vigor. He gripped dark strands in each fist, held like icepicks in a glacier. This last kiss ended when he stumbled confidently back to a stand at the summit of Christine.
The citadel of her index finger rotated on the altar of her nipple, cautiously teasing it into a state of continual rise. Concentric spirals of her fingertips barely dared make contact, only touching down with the same strength as Nick's hands planted on her warm skin. Christine's areolas rippled with pinprick goosebumps at the transition from the softer auric tone of her skin to the dark, unripe cherry of her nipple. It was a miniature mountain unto itself, surrounded by the same low, delicate terrain which culminated at the tip.
The proffered streamer of hair fell from Nick's dumbfounded knuckles and around his ankles as he looked on, hardly able to keep his throat clear enough to swallow at the sight which laid ahead.
"Someone's coming along nicely," Christine whispered. She withdrew her finger from the nipple, letting it drape luxuriously in the air over Nick's head like an inverted Creation of Adam for just a moment before she laid her hand back beside her cheek on the pillow. In the interim, Nick raised his fist above his head, reaching out for her, knowing there was no way he'd actually make contact unless she allowed him, but attempting it all the same.
"Waiting for something, cutie?" the Omega questioned. "I thought you'd like to show me why you're the teacher's pet."
Marooned alone, then, on the rounded apex of the mountain, the Beta marched forward, determination and roiling arousal alike crackling in his eyes. It took most of his self-restraint to avoid simply flinging himself at the regal perimeter of her nipple upon the tenderly rutted skin. Instead he crouched down, squeezed his palms together, and took hold with his most dexterous extremities. Hands fastened around a ribbed cluster of flesh like taste buds, his own tongue and teeth sampling and needling the gorgeous knot of her nipple.
Like electricity in the back of his throat, he winced at every fresh flavor of her skin, gnawing with increasing ferociousness. His tiny fingers ringed the cushy, plated rim of her nipple, timidly at first, but after hearing another few elated huffs of air from her lips, he was encouraged for more of a full-body assault. Her goosebumps pricked ever higher, lifting him up as he stretched across her vulnerable bulge of rosy skin.
The pop of moist suction somewhere in the softly lit void. Skin against skin. The liquid whisper of it burrowed in Nick's ear, but he was too preoccupied with the finishing touches of his first greeting with this part of Christine. The paranoid threat of humiliating himself with a misplaced finger or a lick too long was still omnipresent, the spine-tingling arousal of it all besides, when he was probably already accomplishing so little in terms of stimulating Christine's senses into action. What was he, in the scheme of the entire ecosystem which built up her magnificent person? An insect, a mite, a crumb?
He received the best reminder possible in the oncoming seconds that, yes, small as he was, he belonged to the correspondingly loose rules of gravity and physics as a crumb. Skin on his back, gridded and wet, brushed along his bare shoulders so lightly he almost didn't recognize it. Her hair hadn't returned.
Instead, the circular pad of an extended digit, painted with sticky fluid, plastered to his back. In no time, the cooler air above Christine's breast adhered him to the tip her lovingly sucked index finger. The last lingering hairs which looped loosely around his calves came undone like ribbons. Then, unlike the crumb he'd almost imagined himself to be in his state of defeatism, he was plucked with utmost care, attention, and purpose for the owner of the finger. She lifted him up, glued softly to her finger.
He watched his hands fall away from the beloved altar of her nipple, sinking lower in space, until he was swooping above her neck, over her chin, watching the seemingly boundless terrain of her flesh create itself beneath his dangling feet. Just as fittingly as the crumb he now was so grateful to emulate in size, he touched down in a double-crested valley of red, so broad on either side he couldn't have had a prayer of stretching across either width with his entire body. Christine's lips, spongy and seething with heat, below his unworthy heels, where she'd placed him with that angelic finger from on high.
There was no further need for direction on this specific assignment. A steady tide of warm air exhaled from Christine's nostrils ahead, her mouth utterly still as Nick dove into the deeply riveted divide between her upper and lower lip. The soft valley, pungent of salt and coconut from where she'd dragged her finger through the glistening nectar of her cheeks, held firm beneath his prostrate body. The Beta trembled. All but overcome with the necessity of this moment, Nick gathered himself into a fetal curl and pressed his lips into the curved crimson cavity that was his keeper's own.
And just as Nick hoped she would, Christine kissed back, but yet again snapped his expectations cleanly in half, in the same way an incorrect flinch of her lips might do the same to his legs. In this room, right now, the Beta's perception of what could be achieved between one so great and one so small was now a constantly remolding theory rather than a certainty.
The Omega's lips shifted in a smooth seismic roll, parting by the millimeter. More than enough pressure in answer to Nick's make-out offer, lips smeared with her scent and saliva, each side stronger than anything the Beta could imagine. Then her tongue emerged. By less than a foot, the majesty of her worming muscle budded through her lips, directly below Nick's body. In the same stroke, his tiny frame was bunched into the tip of Christine's organ, his own lips and tongue in harried frenzy. Nick writhed in mounting sexual agony as he slid from side to side on the curve.
Then it was gone again. Christine's tongue slurped back into the globe of her beautiful head, filtering Nick's body back onto her lips. In the same subconscious gasp he felt the momentary heartbreak of that wild sensation receding, even as he returned to his previous business wrestling with his lips. But just as quickly the red beast returned, in fuller force this time, hot and streaked anew in liquid. Her every taste bud pulsed beneath Nick, a last rhythm to collect. She seemed to sense his approach toward that assignment completion she'd hinted at earlier. Her own guttural breaths, her lungs clawing for more, reared somewhere beneath Nick's body as he repeated the ascension upon Christine's tongue, then the gentle comedown on her lips.
The Omega's own massive hand had long ago vanished to a lower region of her body. At one point, Nick caught in the corner of his sight her index finger tempering the still-erect nipple, but after a few more minutes, her arm had traveled even lower, out of his sight and certainty, though he couldn't help but know, and feel grateful. This lesson was nearly finished.
And finish it did. The shiver was catastrophic. So spectacular, Nick couldn't help but roar with body-numbing ecstasy into the cavern of Christine's mouth as her tongue slid back inside a final time. Her own body, so strong and ever-steady, released a pair of convulsions which reached her face, followed by a hand-molded moan, rising like an obelisk of sonic joy from down in the abyss of her lovely throat.
Foolish as he felt to think it and with no intention of speaking his mind aloud, as Nick rolled over, supported in the small of his back by Christine's puffed upper lip, he couldn't help but grin like a giddy kid at his mind's automatic response, suppressing a snort of delirious laughter.
Class dismissed.