Midsummer Celebration

It was a hot Saturday in August. The kind while just by being outside you will be sweating like a pig. It was a good thing that my car's AC was working and as I was driving to my destination, I could relax in the coolness.

I sighted contentedly as I turned on the radio. I was invited to a small gathering of friends to celebrate Midsummer's Day. Sure, it was a couple of days too late, but since officially the celebration fell out on Wednesday - middle of the work week -, we decided to have the unofficial celebration be done on the weekend.

There was supposed to be five of us: me, my friend Robert, his wife Irene, Robert's sister Justine and her husband Anthony. The party was supposed to happen in Robert's homestead - a secluded place by the forest with no neighbors in sight for miles. A perfect place for the sort of debauchery we were planning with the girls. No one would hear their screams: whether from pleasure or pain that was another matter entirely.

Well, not entirely true, there was a sixth guest, currently lying in my car's trunk. She wanted something to put through her paces, oh, and she will get that and more.

My car's infotainment system flashed indicating an incoming call. "Hey, Rob", I greeted him. In the background I could hear a woman spluttering and a man laughing and muttering something. "I see you already started celebrating", I noted drily after hearing the sounds.

Robert just laughed. "Yeah, 'Tony decided to waterboard Justine in the pool a bit", the man laughed at his sister's ordeal.

"Aw, man", I whined. "I wanted to do that. Tell Anthony to not get carried too much away. No one likes fucking a corpse", I chuckled.

"Well, that's not strictly true", a woman's voice purred. It was Irene. I laughed having remembered how during Robert's father's funeral, she spent the night naked in a closed casket with his father's corpse. "You should hurry up, I can't wait to be hurt in more ways than one by you", the woman purred in to the speaker and then yelped. I guessed that Robert smacked her over the head.

"Shut up, whore, you'll get yours soon", her husband growled. I could hear another thud. "Yeah, crawl to Justine, you good for nothing slut". There was a short pause. "Anyway, just called to ask whether you'll be here soon?".

"Almost there, Rob. Just passed through the commercial homesteads for the tourists. Will be there in five", I replied, turning off the infotainment system and turning up the music as my car sped through the grave on a bumpy road.

*

The homestead was huge and over-grown, even though Rob tried his best to keep it in the decent shape. The entrance to the homestead was freshly mown down and even my car’s closed windows could not precluded the smell of freshly cut grass pervading through the filters. I smiled when I slowly drove past old wooden two-stories house. The exterior of it seemed to demand a fresh coat of paint, but other than that for all intents and purposes it could have stood for another one hundred years without crumbling.

I parked my car by the shed and got out. Immediately, I was hit by the overbearing heat of the sun shining down on me. No cloud could be seen in the sky. I sighted in frustration as I wiped a bead of sweat quickly forming on my brow.

“Hey, guys!”, I waved cheerfully at the people a couple dozen feet away standing in a make-shift portable pool. Anthony, a greying man with a protruding beer belly, waved back at me with a can of beer in his hand. His face was bright red – either from the sun or too much blood pressure, I could not tell. He was standing hunched over something, though I could have guessed what or should I say who.

Robert was sitting at the other side of the inflatable pool with his eyes closed. He was a couple of years younger than Anthony with some of his front teeth missing and a receding hairline. While his beer belly was not as big, he was overweight by a few dozen kilos.

“Hey, nice of you to make it”, the man also greeted me. His red from sunlight hands were draped around the pool’s rims as he was clearly enjoying himself.

“Thanks for having me”, I cheerfully replied while walking towards them. As I casually leaned on the edge of the pool, I got a good luck of what was happening in front of me. As I suspected, Anthony was indeed hunched over something, or rather, someone. His thick, sun-reddened arm extended down into the water, his hand firmly gripping the back of Justine's blonde head, holding her submerged. Bubbles erupted from beneath the surface in irregular bursts as the woman thrashed occasionally, her hands gripping the inflated rim of the pool for support. Anthony took a leisurely sip of his beer, not even looking down at his wife as she gurgled and spluttered underneath.

“Since it’s hot from early morning, decided the girls needed to cool off”, the man casually explained as he watched the bubbles slowly cease. I watched with interest whether he will let his wife drown, but apparently, Justine had more stamina than I gave her credit for. She emerged from the water spluttering and gasping for air, hands flailing all over. Some of the water landed on Anthony's beer-can and the man scowled angrily at his wife. “You stupid bint!”, he yelled yanking her blonde hair roughly tearing at the scalp.

“I’m… ugh… sorry… ugh… honey”, she managed to gasp out, her lungs and throat burning.

“Open your fucking mouth, whore”, he growled. As Justine obeyed, Anthony coughed up a large glob of yellowish phlegm and spat directly in to her throat. I smiled as I watched her retch and swallow it.

“Thank you for a snack, honey”, the woman devotedly said looking in his brown eyes with love, and then her body was showed back in to the pool.

“See what I have to deal with every day?”, Anthony asked me as he took another sip of beer holding his trashing wife tightly.

“No worries”, I replied chuckling. “We can always beat the shit out of her later in the day to correct her”. Anthony laughed and whether or not Justine could hear what I said, she began trashing even more.

As this was happening, on the other side of the pool Robert was sitting with his eyes closed and arms draped over the rim. The water around him was disturbed by rhythmic movement beneath the surface. Every few seconds, a mass of dark brown hair would break the waterline briefly before submerging again. Irene was underwater, her slim silhouette visible through the translucent blue vinyl of the pool as her head bobbed methodically in Robert's lap.

"She's been at it for a good fifteen minutes now," Robert said with a lazy smile, not opening his eyes. "Thought I would be doing her a favor by training her lung capacity”.

“Later, we could probably test their lung capacity by having them compete for the privilege of not being tortured… as much”, I added with a smile.

“Huh, now, that’s a good idea, lad”, Robert said as he grabbed Irene's head with both hands. I watched as Robert’s grip tightened on Irene's wet hair, his fingers tangling into the dark brunette strands. He wasn't just holding her in place anymore; he began to thrust his hips upward, driving his cock deep into her mouth while keeping her fully submerged. The water around him churned violently, splashing over the sides of the pool as he intensified the underwater face-fucking.

Irene's body jerked with every rough thrust, her hands initially pushing against his thighs in a desperate attempt to surface. But Robert was relentless. He grunted with the effort, using her hair like a handle to force her head all the way down, burying her face in his crotch. Bubbles escaped frantically from her nose and lips, carrying muffled gargles that were barely audible above the splashing water.

"Don't you dare come up for air, you useless cunt," Robert groaned, his eyes snapping open to fixate on the distorted shape of his wife beneath the water. He picked up the pace, the water sloshing rhythmically as he pistoned into her throat.

Meanwhile, Anthony seemed to be taking a page out of Robert's book. He pushed Justine down with more force, his hand pressing flat against the crown of her head. While Justine had been allowed brief gasps of air before, Anthony now kept her under for extended, agonizing minutes. I watched the water boil around her struggles as she clawed at the pool liner, her legs kicking out uselessly. Anthony just finished his beer, crushing the can in his hand while leaning his weight onto his wife’s head, thoroughly enjoying her silent panic.

I looked back at Robert. His breathing had become ragged and shallow, his face flushing a deep shade of crimson. He was jackhammering into Irene's throat now, the water splashing violently up against his chest. "Take it... take it all, bitch," he hissed through gritted teeth. With a final, brutal thrust, he slammed her head down into his lap, arching his back as he emptied himself deep inside her.

He held her there, shuddering with the aftershocks of his orgasm, his hands keeping her head locked in place. Seconds ticked by. Then a minute. The violent churning of the water ceased, and the bubbles stopped rising entirely. Irene's body went limp, her arms floating weightlessly in the blue water like driftwood.

"Looks like she's out cold," I observed calmly, gesturing to Irene's floating form. Her dark hair was spread out like a halo around her pale, unmoving face. "You might want to let her up before she becomes a permanent fixture."

Robert panted heavily, sweat dripping down his nose and mixing with the pool water. He held Irene's head down for another few lingering seconds, savouring the tightness of her convulsing throat around his softening shaft, before finally releasing his grip on her hair. He leaned back, exhausted, as her body slowly drifted upward.

He grabbed Irene's by the arm and hauled her upper body out of the water, dumping her unceremoniously onto the hot grass beside the pool. She lay there like a ragdoll, water streaming from her mouth and nose, her chest heaving sporadically as her body fought to restart its breathing rhythm.

I decided to help her out a bit by stomping on her stomach in a perverse mockery of a Heimlich maneuver. A couple of sharp stomps seemed to help since Irene began coughing and sputtering, life finally returning to her face. I saw Anthony follow suit and soon both women were coughing and sputtering water out of their lungs.