Midsummer Celebration

As I and the guys were now sitting at the table outside just enjoying ourselves and living in the moment, Irene and Justine alternated between each of us and feeding us grapes and berries like we were some freaking Roman aristocrats. The women moved around us like good little servants. Their skin glistened with a mixture of drying pool water and fresh sweat, highlighting the curves and bruises that were already starting to form on their bodies.

Irene, still looking a bit ragged from the underwater ordeal, came up to my side. She leaned over, her pert breasts brushing against my shoulder, and held a cluster of dark purple grapes to my lips. I opened my mouth, allowing her to place the fruit on my tongue, her fingers lingering just a moment too long against my lips. I playfully bit her fingers, eliciting a small gasp from her.

Across the table, Justine was feeding her husband a handful of strawberries. While chowing down on them, 'Tony casually reached up to pinch and twist Justine's nipple, eliciting a sharp hiss from her.

"So," Anthony said, swallowing a strawberry whole as he continued to maul his wife's breast. "We were debating earlier. What’s the most efficient way to really make a cunt hurt? You know, for the long run."

I leaned back, accepting another grape from Irene's trembling fingers before responding. "It’s all about that bundle of nerves, isn't it? Direct pressure. I mean, sure, slapping is fun, but if you want to see them cry, you have to go internal. Crochet needles, clit clamps connected to a car battery... the classics never fail."

"See, that's where I disagree," Rob interjected, grabbing a handful of berries from his sister's open palm. "It's about depth. If you want them to remember you three days from now, you gotta wreck the cervix. Nothing says 'I love you' like punching it repeatedly."

“Hey, Irene, darling”, I asked smiling at Rob’s wife, who was looking at me with a paling face probably guessing where I was going with this, “what’s your favorite method to make your cunt hurt?”

“Well… uh…”, she stammered as I grabbed her clitoris and smashed it between my index and thumb. The brunette started gasping as I began scrubbing her little bundle of nerves between my fingers.

“Do you like the way I’m smashing your clit?”, I asked not really expecting any answer. I enjoyed looking how the woman was desperately trying to steel herself and not grab my hands.

Robert let out a hearty laugh. "See? The lad knows how to multitask," he chortled, his eyes gleaming as he watched his wife's knees buckle and her face contort in silent agony. Without missing a beat, he shifted his attention to his sister, who was still standing beside him, waiting with the bowl of berries. He shot a meaty hand out between her legs, his thick fingers clamping down ruthlessly on her sensitive clit. Justine gasped, her eyes going wide and watery as she nearly dropped the bowl, her legs trembling violently as her brother mimicked my grip, twisting and grinding the delicate flesh between his calloused digits.

"Rob, please!" she whimpered, the bowl rattling in her hands. “I’m going to drop my bowl with the berries”, the blonde reasoned.

“If you drop it, we’re going to whip your back bloody raw”, her husband said cheerfully, while sipping on a beer and looking at the scene with casual amusement.

Justine's knuckles turned white as she fought to keep her grip on the bowl, her entire body vibrating with the effort to remain still while her brother mercilessly ground his thumb into her most sensitive spot. Her breath hitched in sharp, shallow gasps, but she didn't dare step away or drop the fruit.

I increased the speed and intensity of the friction I was applying to Irene's swollen bundle of nerves. The brunette was practically dancing on the spot now, her toes curling into the grass, her mouth open in a silent, tormented O. Sweat trickled down her temple, mixing with the residual pool water, but she didn't pull away. She knew better.

Then I released her. Irene gaped at me open mouthed, still reeling from the pain, which was slowly receding. Clearly, she expected me to continue on, to coax an orgasm out of her . I chuckled at her expression, which was a mix of outrage, relief and humiliation. “Why are you standing here like a fish out of water?”, I asked Irene while playfully slapping her mound, the action making her knees buckle. “Continue feeding us”.

Robert snorted as he watched his doting wife scramble to recover her composure and continue offering fruit. Then he turned his attention back to Justine, his grin turning predatory. Unlike me, Rob had no intention of letting up just yet. "Let's see if you can hold this bowl steady when your legs turn to jelly, you whore," he growled, increasing the pressure and speed of his fingers.

The blonde let out a high-pitched whine, her eyes rolling back as Robert began to churn her clit roughly, the friction intense enough to leave raw, red skin in its wake. "Rob... I... please…!", the blond stammered with a trembling voice.

"Shut it," her brother snapped, his fingers moving like a blur over her swollen flesh. He wasn't just pinching anymore; he was grinding down hard, using his calloused thumb to sandpaper her sensitive nub while his index finger clawed at the surrounding tissue. "You're going to paint that bowl with your juices if I say so, aren't you?"

Justine's entire body was shaking like a leaf in a storm. Her knuckles were white around the rim of the fruit bowl, arms jerking spasmodically as the abuse overwhelmed her nervous system. Sweat dripped from her forehead onto her heaving chest, and her breath came in ragged, sobbing gasps. "I... I can't... it hurts too much!" she cried out, her voice breaking.

"Nonsense, sis," Robert grunted, a sadistic glint in his eyes. He twisted his wrist violently, eliciting a sharp scream from the blonde that echoed across the garden. "Sluts like you love pain. Come on, cream yourself. Show us how much you love your brother fingering your raw cunt."

Justine's back arched violently, her spine bending into a painful bow as the agony finally tipped over into a chaotic, forced release. With a guttural scream that was half-sob, half-moan, her body seized up. Her thighs quaked uncontrollably, and the bowl of berries in her hands rattled violently, a few strawberries tumbling out onto the grass - a sight not missed by Tony. She threw her head back, her mouth open in a silent rictus of overwhelming sensation, as a clear fluid gushed out around Rob's punishing fingers, coating his hand and dripping onto the ground.

"That's it," Robert laughed cruelly, not letting up until he had milked the last spasm out of her. "Soak my hand, you little slut. Look at you, cumming from your own brother torturing your clit."

His sister collapsed forward, catching herself on the edge of the table, chest heaving as she struggled to stay upright. The bowl was precarious in her grip, but miraculously, she hadn't dropped it entirely. Tears streamed down her face, ruining her makeup, mixing with the sweat and drool on her chin.

Justine, her chest still heaving from the violent climax, slid to her knees beside Rob’s chair. She looked up at him with misty, worshipful eyes before taking his hand and guided his glistening fingers to her mouth. She moaned softly as she sucked her own juices from his skin, her tongue sliding between his digits to clean every drop of the sticky, pungent fluid. Robert watched her with a smug satisfaction, wiggling his fingers deep into her throat just to hear her gag.

"Good girl," he muttered, patting her cheek like a dog. "Always know how to clean up a mess."

"Speaking of messes," Anthony said, his voice dropping from cheerful to stern as he pointed to the grass near his wife's knees. "You dropped three strawberries, dear."

The blonde froze with her brother's fingers halfway down her throat. She slowly pulled back, a thick string of saliva connecting her lips to his hand, and looked at the crushed red fruit staining the green grass. A low, miserable groan escaped her, her eyes darting fearfully between her husband and her brother.

“I’m sorry, I tried my best”, she whispered, her voice trembling, bracing herself for the punishment that would surely follow.

Her husband just took a slow sip of his beer, eyes cold and calculating. "How bout fifteen slaps to your cunt, five for each dropped berry, sound good to you, Rob?"

“Oh, sure”, Robert agreed smiling at his sister. The prospect of hurting her pussy again just moments ago from tormenting her clit was funny to him.

“Me, you and Charlie can have a go”, Tony said looking at me.

I nodded, observing the interaction with casual indifference as Irene placed another berry in my mouth.