Rachel Brooks on Knotty Biscotti

Easter Eggs

Fri, 10 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Rachel emerged from Frankie’s bedroom—their shared bedroom any night Rachel wasn’t up late working—and smiled, surveying the bright, sun-soaked living room of their apartment. The afternoon sun was wonderful! The open curtains allowed the room to grow very warm and Rachel was glad she was only wearing a t-shirt and her gym shorts. Too hot for much more, she thought as a blush joined her smile.

“Still waiting!” Frankie’s voice carried mock irritation with a hint of genuine excitement.

“Keep your eyes closed!”

“They’re closed! Jeez, Rach!”

Rachel padded into the kitchen, nearly silent on her bare feet, then took a seat opposite Frankie, her best friend of nearly eight years, girlfriend of nearly five months. “Okay, open.”

Frankie opened one eye, grinned, then opened the other. Resting on the table between the two women was her first prize: a large egg made of pink plastic. “An Easter egg hunt.” Frankie laughed and looked back up at Rachel.

“This is how you make it up to me,” she said evenly, letting a pinch of amusement come through.

“Okay! Easter egg hunt!” Frankie sounded like a kid at Disneyland. She opened the egg, revealing only a slip of paper inside. She faltered for a beat, then recovered and read the note in a singsong lilt. “You hid something in this spot thinking that you were so smart / Start right here, where you nearly made me act like a tart.” Frankie snorted, failing to stifle the laughter.

“I’m a research journalist, not a writer! Go!” Rachel’s command was less commanding than she’d have liked as she was laughing too.

Frankie darted across the hardwood floor to the desk and Rachel sat on the edge of the kitchen counter to watch. Seconds later, Frankie was holding up another plastic egg, this one a rich purple. She twisted it open, confusion clear on her expression. Rachel imagined she was surprised by the weight.

“What is…” Frankie trailed off as understanding dawned. She put the egg down and held up a purple lace bralette, crop-style with racerback straps, and a matching set of lace boyshorts. “OH! Fashion show!” Frankie declared, giving Rachel a wicked grin.

“Yep, fashion show,” Rachel agreed, making a ‘shoo’ motion with her hand.

Silence from the bedroom, then a squeal of surprise. “Rach!”

“C’mon, Frankie! Fashion show!” Now Rachel was almost imitating Frankie’s earlier tone.

Frankie emerged from the bedroom wearing nothing but the lingerie. The bralette did wonders for her modest breasts, but the boyshorts, oh they were doing exactly what Rachel had been hoping for. They hugged Frankie’s hips, snugged tight against her mound, and when Frankie turned they left her ass completely bare. The shorts had a heart-shaped cutout that framed Frankie’s behind perfectly.

Rachel squirmed on the kitchen counter. Not yet, she told herself. She hadn’t counted on how hot it would be watching Frankie being so casual about this.

“Another clue!” Frankie giggled, reading it in the same voice as the last. “Where you hog all the space and steal the remote / If you look down low, you’ll find your next note.” Frankie glanced up, wheeled around and gave her behind a firm swat. “To the couch!” She ran across the room, knelt on the cushions and stuffed both hands between them.

Rachel stared. She’s doing that on purpose! She’d planned to watch Frankie from behind while she searched, but she hadn’t planned on Frankie in this position. Back to Rachel, knees spread wide, Frankie’s ass-cheeks hanging out of the boyshorts were even more tempting than Rachel had imagined.

“Found it!” Frankie announced, holding up a brilliant yellow egg in triumph. She opened it with a flourish, then squeaked. Rachel was thrilled at Frankie’s startled expression. “Is this…” Frankie’s eyes widened as she held up a tiny strip of orange and black fabric.

“Fashion shooooow,” Rachel teased, motioning to the bedroom again.

Frankie returned a moment later and Rachel couldn’t contain the gasp. This outfit was another two-piece. Sort of. The top was a leopard-print bandeau-style micro-kini with studded leather trim. It was barely wide enough to cover Frankie’s areolae, and her nipples stood out prominently beneath the fuzzy fabric. Around her neck was a matching choker, about an inch and a half tall, edged with the same black leather and tiny silver studs.

The bottom was a nearly invisible g-string with a leopard-print triangle covering Frankie’s crotch and very little else. Frankie’s auburn curls peeked out around the g-string’s almost laughable coverage. The afternoon sun caught them just right, made them almost glow, and Rachel’s toes curled. She hoped Frankie hadn’t caught that. “Very cute! You like it?” she asked, knowing her voice didn’t sound as casual as she wanted.

Frankie shuffled, adjusting what little she could. “Rwar!” she responded and made a little ‘claw’ motion with her free hand, but she seemed just a touch less confident. “Next clue!” she chirped after a moment. “Where you found the cream cheese, why was it there?” Frankie shot Rachel a look and Rachel couldn’t help giggling. “Go have a look, no tricks, I swear!”

Maybe moving a bit more cautiously, Frankie watched Rachel for a moment, then entered the bathroom. Rachel had to hop off the counter to follow. When she reached the bathroom door, Frankie had already retrieved a powder-blue plastic egg from the shower caddy. She eyed Rachel sideways, twisting it open.

Rachel’s tongue-tip grazed her lower lip. “Fashion show,” she said softly. When Frankie had disappeared into the bedroom, Rachel allowed herself a trembling exhale. Almost there.

“Rach?” Frankie asked, sounding uncharacteristically shy as she emerged from the bedroom again.

“Oh,” was all Rachel could manage. It was better than she’d imagined.

Frankie was wearing a black leaf-pattern lace bodysuit that hid nothing. Her nipples strained against cups so sheer Rachel could count every one of the little bumps scattered across Frankie’s areolae. The bodysuit was held in place with a string of pearls acting as a halter neck; the sides and back were almost completely cut away. Most beautifully, the bodysuit ended just below Frankie’s hipbones. Another string of pearls looped between Frankie’s legs, connecting the front and the back of the outfit. A few of the pearls were completely lost in Frankie’s pubic hair and the strand nestled perfectly between Frankie’s outer lips.

“Rach?” Frankie asked again.

Rachel swallowed. “One more,” she responded, handing Frankie an orange plastic egg.

Frankie opened it carefully. Like the first, there was only a slip of paper inside. “I never imagined this would bloom / Now follow me into your room. Love, Rachel”

Rachel was guiding Frankie before she’d finished reading the note. She walked Frankie backward through the bedroom door and onto the bed, then lay between her legs. One hand stroked the inside of Frankie’s thigh while her other carefully explored the bottom of the bodysuit. She had to search for a moment before she found the clasp that released the string of pearls, but the way Frankie twisted and moaned, Rachel was sure she didn’t mind.

Pearls removed. Rachel’s hands urged Frankie’s thighs open just a little more. She breathed deep, drunk on Frankie’s scent already, then took her long-awaited lick at Frankie’s pussy. Frankie’s reaction was intense and immediate. She groaned, her thighs pressed against Rachel’s hands, and she arched her back. “Yummy,” Rachel purred and pressed closer. She loved the feeling of Frankie’s labia against her face. The warmth, the smell, the way Frankie tasted, it was all so perfect. She drove her tongue deep, wiggling and rolling and curling inside Frankie. She nodded, pressing her chin against the base of Frankie’s pussy, then drew her tongue back out and made a loud, smacking sound with her lips.

She moved to return to her place between Frankie’s thighs when she felt Frankie’s hands on her head. “Babe, wait.” Rachel paused, confused, until Frankie removed Rachel’s glasses. “Poking me,” Frankie gasped, then directed Rachel back down.

Now that everything in the world was a blur except for Frankie’s glistening folds, Rachel was even more eager. She licked and sucked at Frankie’s cunt. She ground her nose into Frankie’s clit. She pulled back a little and pressed her tongue-tip against Frankie’s anus. The moan and shudder this drew from Frankie gave Rachel a thrill she felt through her whole body.

Finally Rachel returned her whole attention to Frankie’s clit. She licked it roughly with her whole tongue, bit at Frankie’s dense pubic curls, then bit her clit just as two fingers slid deep inside. “Fuck, Frankie. Cum, please? Please, cum. Please, Frankie! Cum for me!” She pounded her fingers faster and deeper, watching Frankie’s face for that moment. When she saw it, she moved down again, caught Frankie’s clit between her teeth and flicked it rapidly with her tongue-tip.

“Rach-Rach-Rach-Raaaaach!” Frankie’s orgasm crushed them both.

The clock-radio in Frankie’s room displayed 6:19pm. Both of them had been in and out of sleep for the last few hours. When they were awake together, they made love again. Now it was just Rachel. Frankie was, as usual, cuddled against Rachel’s naked body, her head on Rachel’s shoulder, a puddle of drool forming between her cheek and Rachel’s breast.

“I love taking care of you,” Rachel whispered in the fading light of the day.

Knotty

Fooling Around

Fri, 03 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

“Frankie? D’you know anything about the Easter eggs I bought last week?” Rachel already knew the answer, before Frankie’s bedroom door opened, revealing fragments of colourful foil wrapper on her floor.

“Easter eggs?”

At least she sucks at lying, Rachel thought, rolling her eyes.

“WHAT DID I PUT IN MY MOUTH?” Frankie howled as she bolted to the washroom, focused entirely on the toilet.

“Did you mistake a foil wrapped grape for a foil wrapped chocolate egg?” Rachel had to cover her face with both hands to keep her wild giggles in check while she watched her girlfriend—her best friend since high school—dry-heave into their toilet.

“Why would you do that? Who wraps a GRAPE?” The look of betrayal was too much—Rachel worried she would pee herself if she started laughing now.

“Frankie? Where’re my black pumps?”

Frankie looked up from her spot on the couch. “Oh, yeah, I put ’em in the hall, they smelled!”

Rachel frowned, then shrieked when she opened the door. Her pumps were there, but the right was lying on its side, displaying a swath of lumpy, yellow-brown paste. She retched. “Fuck! I’m meeting my adviser in 20 minutes!”

Frankie appeared at her side, then knelt to study the fouled shoe. “What? It’ll wipe right off.” She ran her index finger along the sole of the shoe and popped the lumpy brown paste into her mouth.

“FRANKIE!”

“Chunky peanut butter,” Frankie replied, wicked mirth in her eyes.

Frankie emerged from the shower, only a little disappointed that Rachel had been too tight for time this morning to join her. They weren’t quite five months into their relationship and Frankie never tired of touching, of kissing, of worshipping her lover.

She towelled herself off then reached for the antiperspirant Rachel had bought her. She considered her figure in the mirror before rotating the base and deciding she would begin with her modest-but-full boobs. She lifted her left breast carefully and smeared not antiperspirant into the underslope.

Frankie shrieked, dropped the stick and stared at the thick white smear beneath her breast for a moment before she could identify the scent. “Cream cheese?”

Rach, babe, you’ll never top this, Frankie thought as she worked the bullet vibe into the cushion of Rachel’s desk chair. .50 Cal Bullet, the box proclaimed. External use only! it admonished. World’s most powerful bullet vibrator! Frankie liked that one best.

Rachel would probably know right away something was weird with her chair, but Frankie didn’t expect the prank to run long. It was Wednesday; every Wednesday since the start of the new semester Rach had spent the entire evening sitting at her desk, earbuds in, working on her term paper long into the night. Long after Frankie had given up and gone to sleep. Wednesdays were the only night of the week Frankie was sure she was sleeping alone. Rach never wanted to risk waking her up by sneaking into bed at 3am, or whenever the hell she finally stopped working.

Not this week, babe. Frankie brought up the app on her phone, set a two-minute delay after the vibe sensed contact, then plugged her phone in to charge. It was already at 2% battery.

“Shit, I’m late!” Rachel dropped her backpack by the front door, shrugged out of her jacket and left it on the floor in the entrance of their dingy apartment, and ran toward her desk.

Frankie gave her a bewildered look. “What? I made dinner.”

Rachel kissed Frankie on her way. “I’m sorry, babe, Bowen tonight! Video. All yours after!”

Frankie quailed. Dr. Bowen was Rachel’s faculty adviser. They’d missed connecting after her peanut-butter/animal-poop prank but they must’ve rescheduled for a virtual check-in. Tonight.

“Cool!” Frankie replied, trying to sound less than half as terrified as she felt. She waited for Rachel to sit on her chair, open her laptop and log in before bolting for the bedroom.

Her phone wouldn’t power on.

The charger wasn’t plugged in.

FUCK!

Frankie rushed back to the combined office/dining room/living room of their shared apartment. “Rach!” she hissed, only to be cut off by a sharp finger held in the air while Rachel put on her most casually friendly expression.

“Hey, Dr. Bowen, thanks so much for making time for me, I’m so sorry I was late on Friday.” She glanced angrily in Frankie’s direction for a heartbeat.

Rachel’s adviser responded with something Frankie couldn’t make out from her spot at the edge of the room, but it sounded positive enough. She took another step and Rachel’s finger appeared again. Sit your ass down, that finger said. You are on my shit-list right now, that finger said.

Frankie sat on the couch, eyes wide with growing panic.

Dutifully, as instructed by the app before Frankie’s phone battery died, the .50 Cal buzzed to life about 50 seconds into Rachel’s video call with Dr. Bowen.

Rachel squirmed. She squeezed her thighs together. The vibrator did what it did very well. Even through Rachel’s yoga pants and panties, it was very effective. Rachel shot Frankie a look as she tried to carry on a conversation with Dr. Bowen.

Frankie rose from the couch but was chastened again by Rachel’s threatening finger. She sat down, mortified, her stomach clenching.

“…but how do I earn that trust?” Rachel was asking—her voice was a full register lower than normal as she squirmed in her seat. Dr. Bowen responded with…words. Frankie watched Rachel work her flats off, kicking them away beneath her desk while she ground herself against the seat.

Frankie knew that motion. She unbuttoned her jeans and slid her hand down the front. Rachel was incredible! Frankie couldn’t imagine how she could keep a neutral face and (mostly) even tone while Rachel rocked her hips, drawing quiet creaks from the desk chair as she pressed ever harder. She locked her ankles together, then spread her legs wide. She clenched her toes then splayed them, eventually working her socks off without the aid of hands. Every minute or so she would glance over at Frankie, giving her a look that mixed anger and lust.

Frankie was equal parts terrified and aroused. She wasn’t even trying to hide it; she had worked her jeans down and was roughly stroking her clit beneath her plain cotton panties.

“…commitment to facts,” Dr. Bowen was saying when Rachel began her soft, hiccuping sound that Frankie recognised so well. “Are you alright, Rachel?” he asked suddenly and Rachel’s cheeks flushed.

“Fine! No, yes, I’m fine! I’m just—whew! I’m tired! And hungry! I’m sorry, no, my, um, my…roommate made dinner? It smells really good, I can’t wait to eat,” Rachel was almost shrill as Frankie watched her toes splay, then clench, then splay again. Frankie’s own climax was barrelling down on her as she watched her girlfriend struggle to appear casual.

“Well, okay,” Dr. Bowen said, sounding unconvinced. “Wednesday then? We’ll sync on Wednesday and see how everything is going?”

“YES!” Rachel gasped, kicking her feet out beneath her desk, causing her chair to roll back a few inches on the parquet floor.

Frankie heard sounds from Dr. Bowen. They might have been confused or awkward or completely convinced; she had no idea. Frankie was past understanding, instead simply watching Rachel—watching her girlfriend—orgasm on her webcam, in front of her faculty adviser.

This was the hottest thing Frankie had ever seen. She finger-fucked herself so vigorously she was sure Dr. Bowen could hear her. She slapped her glistening pussy, whimpering with each forceful thrust. Eyes on Rachel, she pinched and twisted and stroked her clit, watching her girlfriend denied the same relief. When the video call finally ended, Frankie was on her knees between Rachel’s legs before Rachel could even scowl.

The clock-radio in Frankie’s room displayed 1:15am. Rachel blinked slowly, combing Frankie’s hair with her fingers while Frankie drooled on her bare chest. “Babe?” Rachel asked softly, unsure if Frankie was still awake.

“Mmm?”

“Y’know you screwed up, right?”

“Mmm.”

“Cool.” Rachel smiled in the darkness. “Here’s how you’re gonna make it up to me…”

Knotty

Giving Thanks

Fri, 21 Nov 2025 00:00:00 +0000

“Welcome back, dear listeners. Or if you’re just joining us, welcome to it. Where it is feeling like the frozen end times out there! The city’s buried under an inch of ice, the airport’s been shut down since nine this morning and that’s, uhhh, fourteen hours now? Check my math, willya, Rach?”

“I can’t do math anymore,” Rachel’s deadpan delivery was always the perfect counterpoint to Frankie’s theatrical style.

“You’re right, Rach! Time’s got no meaning anymore! It’s just you and me in this studio, probably the last two human voices on earth! But seriously, listeners, EMS are asking everyone to stay home! The storm’s gonna move on by morning, just settle in for the night. I’m Frankie and with me, as always, is Rachel. We’re three hours in to our unplanned hosting marathon because we’re the only two people crazy enough to be here! You’re listening to WCRU-FM, Your College Crush. We have one space heater, half a bag of pretzels and enough coffee to kill a horse. We’re here all night keeping you company. Until Rach finally murders me for flirting on the air.”

“Oh my god, Frankie!” Rachel sounded exasperated but she couldn’t keep a hint of amusement out of her voice. They’d been inseparable since they met, the first week of high school, now, both students at Ashford College, working at the college radio together and roommates to top it off. Some of their long-term friends had started teasing them about being married.

“So for those of you who got your travel plans ruined by Old Man Winter today — I keep hearing today’s the busiest travel day of the year — how about we kick off this hour by reflecting on the stuff we are thankful for! Rach! Why don’t you start?” Frankie peered across the soundboard at Rachel with an expression of impish glee. They hadn’t talked about this during the news break and Frankie knew Rachel hated these kind of surprises.

“Frankie!” she replied, her face flushing as she tried to mentally steady herself. “Okay, fine, um, I’m thankful … the space heater is still working! Have you felt how cold it is in the hall?”

Frankie rolled her eyes dramatically and giggled into her mic, “Ugh, mid! Let me show you!” She leaned forward, over the desk locking eyes with Rachel. She pulled her mic right up to her lips and spoke in just above a whisper. “I’m thankful I’m here with my bestie and that I work with her every day.”

Rachel’s blush deepened and she felt her stomach flutter just a little. The way Frankie had looked at her. The way her voice sounded …

“Alright, I’ll go again,” Rachel said after clearing her throat. Her tone was a little uncertain now. “I’m thankful you talked me into applying here at Ashford so we —” she cut herself off quickly as the butterflies in her belly grew more active. “Um, still hang out,” she finished lamely.

Glancing up at Frankie, she was startled by the uncharacteristically disarmed smile. “There y’go!” she recovered quickly. “Let’s do this! I’m thankful for how you take care of me! You make sure I eat right, I do all my assignments, all that stuff! I’d be lost without you!”

Silence fell. The studio was decently sound-proofed; not even the howling winds and the punishing sleet reached the two women. Frankie’s eyes were wide with nervousness bordering on genuine fear. She could hardly believe she’d said those things out loud. Had she just blown up the longest, dearest friendship in her life?

“I’m thankful you’re the first person I see every morning and the last person I see every night,” Rachel said softly, though she could tell from the meters on the soundboard that her words had been picked up and carried to Frankie’s headphones.

Silence again. Far longer than it should have given they were still live on the air. Finally, Frankie recovered again and started speaking into her mic once more. “Alright, listeners, time for some music, let’s start of with, um, Wreck by Neko Case.”

The music started, Rachel flipped the switch, the red “ON AIR” light went off and she stood up from her chair. Frankie slowly removed her headphones but otherwise sat perfectly still as Rachel rounded the desk then stood in front of — over, really — Frankie.

“Rach?” she asked softly, her voice unsteady.

“Yeah,” she replied, gently pushing Frankie’s mic away, then sat in her lap, straddling Frankie’s thighs. “This okay?”

“Yeah.”

Frankie’s shirt came open slowly, Rachel’s nervous fingers undoing one button at a time. She shivered as she felt Frankie’s hands on her hips, then pulling her t-shirt out of her jeans. She broke into a teasing smile as the thick flannel shirt revealed enough for her to be certain.

“No bra?” Rachel asked and bit her lower lip softly.

“Laundry tomorrow,” Frankie replied, her hands gliding up Rachel’s bare skin, over her ribs, approaching those breasts Frankie had thought about so many times. “Mine aren’t big enough anyway,” she teased tenderly while freeing Rachel’s breasts from her bra, still beneath her t-shirt.

“They’re perfect,” Rachel whispered as she shifted, kissing a line down Frankie’s chest then taking one of her stiff nipples in her mouth. “You’re perfect,” she whispered before biting down on Frankie’s nipple firmly.

“Rach—” Frankie trailed off; trembling fingers exploring the warm swell of her best friend’s breasts. She made soft, yearning sound as her fingertips explored the stiff tips, getting to know all the little ridges and bumps of Rachel’s areola. Then, a sharp hiss as she felt Rachel’s fingers unbuttoning the front of her jeans. “No, Rach, I haven’t — I’m — it’s winter.”

Rachel stopped, confused and bordering on upset before she could follow Frankie’s thoughts, then she broke out into giggles. “Yeah, I’m not shaving either,” and with that, her fingers were where Rachel had so many times imagined they would be. Tight against Frankie’s mons by Frankie’s jeans and her underwear, exploring her coarse, dense curls, Rachel gasped with pent-up desire as she found that brilliant pearl just beneath her hood. “It’s okay?” she asked softly as she unconsciously ground herself against Frankie’s thighs.

“Oh fuck yes,” Frankie whispered back. Her hands were becoming clumsy on Rachel’s breasts as her excitement grew.

“Fuck, yes,” Rachel agreed and she began the slow, careful, reverential movement of her hand against Frankie’s crotch. Two fingers trapped Frankie’s clit between them as Rachel stroked. Slowly at first, then gradually speeding up as the studio filled with the sounds of lovemaking. Soft, urgent gasps and breaths as Rachel ground and stroked and Frankie squeezed and rocked her hips as much as her position would allow. Slick, beautiful, wet sounds as the women both barrelled toward ecstasy. Frankie accidentally kicked a water bottle under the desk and sent the metal cylinder clattering away but neither of them gave it any notice at all. Rachel was moaning, bent over and biting Frankie’s nape as her fingers worked furiously at Frankie’s clit. Frankie raked her oft-bitten nails over Rachel’s back and down her sides. She made a brief, futile attempt to get her hands down the back of Rachel’s jeans before she was finally lost.

“RACH! Rach-Rach-Rach!” Frankie whimpered and in response Rachel moved her hand ever faster, her fingers pinching tighter and sucked hard enough on the tender skin on Frankie’s neck it was sure to leave a mark. Rachel had marked her. Frankie couldn’t be happier.

“Sorry about the dead air, dear listeners,” Frankie purred into her mic. “Fear not, Rachel and I are still here on this stormy, stormy night.”

“That’s right, Frankie,” Rachel purred right back, beaming at her from across the sound board. “Just us two, all night.”

Knotty