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The lush English countryside passed in a blur of yellow and green as the express train whizzed towards London. Sitting in a business class carriage near the front, Rachael Iverson shuffled her conference speech notes and rehearsed the talk again in her head. It was the millionth time she had read through her speech since she had departed a rainy Edinburgh that morning. She knew that MediaTrax 2018 would attract the biggest movers and shakers in the industry and being asked to deliver a speech on the future of social media was a major boon for her. She couldn’t afford to fuck it up.
Her mobile started to buzz on the table in front of her. It was James, her husband, calling her for the third time that day. She doubted it was urgent, he’d probably misplaced the can-opener or something. If truth be told, she was looking forward to enjoying two nights away alone. The room service, movies and long hot baths were enough to make attending this conference worthwhile.
The lobby of the Kensington Palacio was bustling when Rachael arrived. The grandfather clock beside the reception desk was striking three as she fumbled in her laptop bag to retrieve her booking confirmation. She had a few hours to kill before the networking drinks that evening.
At 7pm, Rachael pinned her long blonde hair into a messy up-do and applied some red lipstick. She was wearing one of her favourite cocktail dresses, black lace with a high-neck and nipped-in waist. She knew she’d turn some heads tonight.
The bar was packed and, as expected, several people turned to look as she confidently swept past them and ordered a gin and tonic. She quickly scanned the room for familiar faces. Shit. Her stomach lurched. In the far left corner, surrounded by an adoring group of hangers-on, Rachael could see a familiar figure. Frankie.
She quickly turned back towards the bar and pretended to scroll through her phone as she tried to figure out her next move. Her hands were shaking as she raised her glass to her lips and took a big gulp. She hadn’t seen Francesca Halliday since college. She’d followed her career online, of course, but it was almost a decade since Rachael had seen her in the flesh, or touched that flesh for that matter.
Nowadays, Frankie headed up one of the biggest digital media agencies in Britain and was, by all accounts, a multi-millionaire. They had fooled around once-upon-a-time, before James, when Rachel had been experimenting at university. Her pussy tightened as she thought back to the lazy days they’d spent in student accommodation, eating pizza, watching movies and fucking each other’s brains out several times a day. No one had ever eaten her pussy the way Frankie had. She shuddered and forced herself to think of her husband. That was all in the past. She was straight now, and married.
“Rachael?” A hand lightly tapped her shoulder.
She spun around and suddenly found herself face-to-face with Frankie. The years had been kind to her, she looked just as good now as she had at nineteen, better even. Her short, brown hair was cropped close to her head and she had an olive complexion that told of exotic holidays in the sun. She had on a crisp white shirt and black trousers, accessorised by a chunky Rolex. Rachael could see the edge of a tattoo just below her collarbone. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but then she never did.
“Frankie,” Rachael exclaimed, doing her best to act surprised. She placed her drink down and leant in to kiss her cheek. “Oh my god, it’s so good to see you.”
“You look incredible,” Frankie said, purposefully taking a step back to admire her. “What is it? Ten years?”
Rachael nodded, doing her best to stay cool and composed. “Stop it! Don’t make me feel old.”
Frankie laughed politely. “Are you…” Her voice trailed off as she gestured towards everyone around them.
“Part of the conference? Yep, yes, sure am. I’m speaking tomorrow. Future of social media istanbul escort at 11am.” She realised that she was talking too quickly now.
Frankie nodded and flashed her a sexy side-smile. “I’ll be there. Front row.”
They had caught the attention of Frankie’s friends who were now hovering a few feet away.
“Listen, I’ve got to do some schmoozing now, but I’d really like to catch up,” she said, pulling a business card and a pen out of her breast pocket. “This is my room number.”
“Oh. Erm, maybe we should just catch up tomorrow for coffee,” Rachael said, holding up her hand to display the expensive-looking rings that adorned her ring finger.
Frankie ran a hand through her hair and let out a laugh, amused. Rachael instantly felt stupid.
“Calm down,” Frankie chuckled, leaning in close so only Rachael could hear her. “I’m not trying to fuck you,” she whispered gently, her breath warm against Rachael’s neck.
Rachael nodded, stuffing the card into her clutch.
“I just get hassled in group situations like this, I’d rather talk with you alone. We can just have a drink, catch up, talk about the uni days. Nothing funny, honestly.”
“Course,” Rachael smiled, felling like an idiot.
“I’ll be back at my room in an hour. Oh, tell me one thing,” Frankie said, an unmistakable glint in her eye. “Your partner… it is a he or a she?”
“He. Husband,” Rachael replied, a little too quickly.
Frankie let out a laugh and rolled her eyes. She let her hand rest for a few seconds in the small of Rachael’s back before disappearing through the crowd.
Rachael kicked her heels off and sat on the edge of her bed, turning Frankie’s business card over and over in her hands. The flimsy piece of paper felt like it was fashioned from lead. She was a married woman now, the ‘Frankie days’ felt like a lifetime ago. So why did she feel so unsettled? Her pussy ached as she thought back to that time. She slipped her panties to the side and ran a finger down her slit. Just the thought of the things they used to do was making her wet. She mentally kicked herself. She had to get it together, she had responsibilities now. She’d said her vows, promised to be with James until death did them part. She wasn’t a fucking kid anymore.
Frankie opened the door a few seconds after Rachael knocked. She’d changed into sweat pants and a black t-shirt that exposed her sleeve tattoo.
“Hey. You came,” She said, smiling as she stepped aside and allowed Rachael to enter the room. Or the penthouse… as Rachael had discovered when she’d asked the receptionist for directions.
“I can’t stay,” Rachael said, hovering in the doorway. “I just didn’t want to be rude. I’ve got a big day tomorrow and I to get a good night’s sleep.”
The room was spectacular, wall-to-wall windows overlooking Tower Bridge. The lights of London twinkled like an urban galaxy below them. Frankie paused and locked eyes with her. She dug her hands into her pockets of her pants and shrugged apologetically.
“You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do,” Frankie replied. “Maybe we’ll catch up before it’s all over.”
“Hopefully,” Rachael said, leaning in to peck her on the cheek before disappearing back to her room.
Rachael let the door slam shut behind her and quickly slipped out of her dress. She sat down on the carpet, leaning against the foot of the bed and examining herself in the full-length mirror opposite. She undid her bra cupped her breasts, imagining Frankie’s hands instead. She pulled her thong to one side, letting the damp fabric slide between her fingers.
Gently, Rachael put two fingers into her pussy, watching herself in the mirror as she withdrew them and spread the juice over her lips and clit. She writhed with pleasure.
Her attention was momentarily diverted by her phone vibrating on the bed behind her. She reached back for the handset but beşiktaş escort didn’t answer it. Instead, she held it against her pussy. She let the deep vibrations of James’ call to make her cum, but there was only one person on her mind as she allowed a wave of pleasure to take over her.
As promised, there was a familiar face in the front row for her talk the next morning. Frankie was dressed smartly in a suit, with her hair gelled back. Her dark eyes had been accentuated by a slick of mascara. She gave Rachael a small wave and chatted with the man beside her.
Rachael had selected her outfit carefully that morning, a tight grey pencil skirt with a floaty black blouse tucked into it. She had opened the first two buttons to show off just the right amount of cleavage.
She cleared her throat and turned on the hand-held microphone.
“Welcome to the future of social media,” Rachael said, catching Frankie’s eye as she made across the stage and started the presentation.
The talk had been a massive success and Rachael felt buoyed as she made her way through the lobby later that evening, attracting admiring glances in her evening dress.
The conference dinner dance was the highlight of the two-day event and she was looking forward to letting her hair down and having a few drinks. The many hours of planning had paid off and she already had two interviews lined up off the back of today’s performance.
Rachael took her allocated seat beside Sasha and Dominic, two former colleagues who now worked for a rival agency. The hotel ballroom had been lavishly decked out for the event with no expense spared on centrepieces and decoration. Her stomach twisted momentarily as she caught sight of Frankie at the big-wig table on the far side of the room. She was wearing a tailored tuxedo and her hair had been slicked to the side. She looked incredible. Frankie must have felt Rachael’s eyes on her because she looked up and smiled, tipping her glass towards Rachael before she could look away.
The rest of the dance passed in a blur of fine food, music and glass-clinking. Sasha and Dominic had turned out to be more fun than she remembered and Rachael felt light-headed as she made her way upstairs a little after midnight. Back at the room, she unzipped her dress, rattled off a quick text message to James and reclined back against the pillows. The conference would be over tomorrow and her train would be whisking her back to Edinburgh. To her husband. Back to reality.
Her thoughts moved again to Frankie. Frankie. Rachael let the name roll over her tongue. The familiar ache between her thighs returned. She moved towards the mini bar, cracked a bottle of wine open and downed it in one go, before wrapping a robe around her naked body and walking out into the corridor.
Rachael steadied herself and took a deep breath before knocking on the door. A few seconds passed before Frankie answered. She’d changed out of her tux into a plain white t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. Rachael eyed her muscular legs, it was obvious that she still took good care of herself.
“Hey…” Frankie said, smiling as she pushed the door wide.
Rachael walked in, their bodies touched briefly as she passed. She noted the tumbler of whiskey and Coke on Frankie’s bedside table and the crumpled suit on the floor. The lights had been dimmed and the city twinkled below them. Slowly, Rachael pulled the tie on her robe and allowed it to fall to the floor. She watched as Frankie took a deep breath, meeting her eyes.
“Rach,” she whispered huskily, moving towards her and gently kissing her neck.
Rachael’s pussy throbbed at the thought of what was to come. James could never make her feel like this, no matter how hard he tried. She was completely naked but didn’t care, Frankie had already seen and sucked every inch of her.
“I think you know why I’m beylikdüzü escort here,” Rachael said, sitting down and looking up at Frankie who was still standing.
“No. Tell me,” Frankie said, kneeling down between her legs and allowing her hand to graze Rachael’s pussy for just a split second.
“Tell me,” Frankie whispered, rubbing her hands over Rachael’s thighs.
“I want you,” Rachael breathed. She could feel the dampness between her legs increasing.
“Want me to do what?” Frankie gave a half smile and met her eyes.
“Fuck me. Please Frankie. Fuck me… like you used to.”
“What about your husband?”
“I don’t care,” Rachael said, feeling the desire burn through her veins. “Eat my pussy, do whatever you want to me. I’m begging you.”
“Well… if you insist,” Frankie murmured, gently pushing Rachael backwards and spreading her legs wide apart. She slipped two fingers inside her and pulled them out, licking them hungrily. “Just as sweet as I remember.”
Rachel closed her eyes as Frankie’s tongue slowly moved up and down her slit, along the lips and over her clit. Sucking and licking her like only she could. She stopped just before Rachael was about to climax and flipped her over on to all fours. Moving behind her, Frankie parted Rachael’s ass cheeks and drove her tongue deep inside, licking from her ass hole all the way down to her pussy and back again. She slid a finger inside her anus and brought her other hand around the front to rub Rachael’s clit, steadily and firmly. Rachael gasped and shuddered as Frankie finally made her cum. Waves of pleasure washed over her; she felt alive the for the first time in a decade.
It took her a few moments to recover before she twisted around and moved towards Frankie who was still dressed. Frankie stayed still, allowing Rachael to peel her t-shirt off, revealing a tattoo-covered torso and the small but pert breasts that Rachael remembered. She pulled the shorts down and reached down to feel Frankie’s wet pussy, warm and velvety on her hands.
Rachael kissed her hard on the lips, probing urgently with her tongue, making up for all the wasted time. All the nights she fucked James when she could have been eating Frankie’s pussy instead. She moved down towards her nipples, sucking them… taking in the shape, the texture, the hardness. She wanted to make Frankie cum, but she needed to cum again too.
She stood up on the mattress, a leg either side of Frankie’s head and squatted down towards her face. Frankie reached up and pulled Rachael’s ass down towards her, hungrily devouring her again. Rachael leant forward, pressing her body against Frankie. Her breasts flopping on to Frankie’s stomach. Her tongue quickly found the wet pussy below it. Rachael remembered that Frankie liked her ass played with and quickly slipped two fingers into her, probing her anus over and over as Frankie did the same to her. The pleasure built until they couldn’t take it anymore and they climaxed within seconds of each other.
Rachael flopped down, her knees buckling. She rested her face against Frankie’s inner thigh. They lay together, spent and sweaty, their juices mingling and their pussies plump and tender.
After a few minutes, Frankie gently moved out from under her and lay behind her. Her damp pussy pressed against Rachael’s ass and her strong forearm wrapped around her breasts.
“Was it like you remembered?” Frankie asked.
Rachael nodded, interlacing her fingers with Frankie’s. She knew there was no going back now. She was ashamed that she’d chosen to marry James, to bury her desires and pretend to be someone that she wasn’t.
“What about you?” Rachael said, turning to kiss her. “Did my pussy taste as good as it did when we were nineteen?”
“Better. You’re the best fuck of my life, Rach. Hall of Fame. No one has ever come close. Now let’s stop fucking around with other people and be together.”
Rachael’s pussy fluttered with pleasure at the thought of Frankie eating it out every day for the rest of their lives. She heard her phone ping in the distance, probably James saying goodnight. She’d deal with him tomorrow. For now, right here was all that mattered.
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