Jules 5.0-Fourth of July

 

The Fourth of July sun blazed over your backyard, the air thick with heat, grill smoke, and the promise of chaos. The barbecue was in full swing—burgers sizzling, a cooler stocked with beer, and a table groaning under bottles of tequila, vodka, and mixers you’d set up for the occasion. Claire, Jules, and Tessa had been planning this since their Juneteenth swimsuit spree, and they’d pulled out all the stops. Jules had invited her college friend, Riley, and Tessa had brought Simone from Edge & Elegance. All five women were determined to make this a night of epic, drunken revelry and sex.

Claire strutted out first, rocking the red one-piece with the plunging neckline from Victoria’s Secret. She’d thrown a sheer white cover-up over it, the fabric clinging to her curves, her dark hair loose and wavy. She’d started the day with a vodka cranberry, her green eyes already bright with a pre-party buzz. “This is gonna be a mess,” she said, grinning at you as she adjusted the grill, her movements loose but deliberate, the alcohol warming her skin and softening her edges.

Jules bounded in next, her neon green bikini bottoms gleaming under a pair of frayed denim shorts, her red curls wild and free. She carried a tray of tequila shots, her white crop top from Juneteenth swapped for a cropped American flag tank—stars over her chest, stripes cutting off just above her navel, no bra as usual. “Daddy, it’s party time!” she hollered, her voice loud from beer she’d just chugged as a chaser to a shot of vodka. Her body buzzed with restless energy, her mind racing, the early drinks making her feel like she could conquer the world.

Tessa arrived shortly after, her red bikini with gold trim peeking out from a black mesh cover-up dress, her blonde bob already messed from the uber ride. She clutched a bottle of prosecco she’d “liberated” from work, popping the cork with a *thwock* that sent fizz spraying. “Barbecue me up!” she laughed, pouring herself a generous glass. She was soberish on arrival, but the prosecco hit fast, her legs wobbling slightly, a giddy heat creeping up her neck.

Then came the newbies. Jules’ college friend, Riley, was a lanky brunette with a sharp jawline and a mischievous grin, her hazel eyes glinting with trouble. She wore a black string bikini under a ripped Stars and Stripes tee, the hem hacked off to show her toned midriff, and cutoff jean shorts that barely covered her ass. Her shoulder-length hair was streaked with purple, pulled into a messy bun. “Jules said this’d be wild,” she said, snagging a beer from the cooler. She felt sharp and eager, the first sip loosening her shoulders, her laughter already bubbling up.

Simone, who worked in the mall at Edge & Elegance had been invited by Tessa, sauntered in last, exuding her signature chic vibe. Her deep red bikini was a sleek two-piece with thin straps, paired with a gold sarong tied low on her hips. Her jet-black ponytail swung high, her olive skin glowing in the sun, and her winged eyeliner was pristine—for now. She carried a bottle of rosé, her fourth glass from the uber ride still in hand. “I’m here for the chaos,” she purred, her French accent thick, the rosé already making her feel light and floaty, her steps a touch unsteady.

The afternoon kicked off with a toast—“To freedom, fireworks, and getting fucked up!” Jules yelled, downing her first tequila shot. The others followed, Claire wincing, Tessa giggling, Riley whooping, and Simone sipping her rosé with a smirk as a chaser. Burgers were devoured, music blared—punk rock bleeding into pop—and the drinks flowed like a river.

Soon, Claire was on her third vodka cranberry and second tequila shot, peeling off her cover-up to dance by the pool. The alcohol hit her harder now—her limbs felt like liquid, her head swimming in a warm, fuzzy haze. She swayed to the beat, laughing too loud, her one-piece slipping slightly to reveal a nipple. “I’m… sooo titsyy,” she slurred, leaning against you, her skin hot and flushed. She stroked your chest through your t shirt. Slowly, as you played with her nipples through her red suit, her hand slipped into your pants. Soon, your wife was giving you a blow job, in front of your guests.

Jules, three tequila shots and two beers in, stripped off her shorts, cannonballing into the pool in her green bikini. She surfaced, splashing Riley, her movements sloppy and wild. “This is the best!” she shouted, her voice thick, her head spinning like a top. The drinks made her invincible—her body vibrating, her thoughts a jumbled, ecstatic mess. She climbed out, dripping, and grabbed another shot, her freckles stark against her red cheeks. Spuying her mother, she shotted, “Yoo gow mom.  Daddy, hope yoo got viagra-5 zzzrunk horney women yoo'll need it.”

Tessa, three proseccos and two tequila shot down, shed her mesh dress, strutting in her red bikini. “I’m… fuckin’ fabulous,” she mumbled, her bob a sweaty tangle, her legs buckling as she tried to dance. The alcohol washed over her in waves—her tongue heavy, her mind foggy, her body buzzing with sloppy joy. She was on her way to join you and Claire, when she tripped over a lawn chair, landing in a giggling heap, and Riley hauled her up, both laughing hysterically.

Riley, on her third beer and third shot, left Tessa and joined Jules by the pool, shedding her tee to reveal the black bikini. “You’re a legend, Jules!” she slurred, her purple-streaked hair falling loose. The drinks hit her fast—her limbs loose, her head light, a reckless energy surging through her. She dove in after Jules, surfacing to chug another beer, water dripping down her face as she swayed, her laughter sharp and unhinged. Then she pined Jules, and kissed her on the lips. Her Hands slipping under Jules soaked t-shirt to play with her boobs. “Too c'n play thad,” jules slurred, slipping a hand under Files black bottoms.

Simone, mixing rosé with tequila shots—five drinks total—lounged by the grill, her sarong untied and pooling around her hips. “This… is magnifique,” she slurred, her accent thicker, her eyeliner smudged from the heat. The alcohol drowned her poise—her body felt like jelly, her thoughts a slow, drunken swirl, her laughter soft but constant. She tried to stand, wobbled, and flopped back down, giggling as she spilled rosé on her bikini, so she began to play with herself with her free hand.

By dusk, fireworks crackling overhead, all five were absolutely wasted. Claire, six drinks in, sprawled on a lounge chair, her one-piece askew, both nipples out, her cover-up lost. “I can’t… feel my face,” she mumbled, her voice a soft slur, her body limp in a floaty, blissful haze. She giggled as a sparkler fizzed nearby, too drunk to care.

Jules, eight drinks deep, danced topless by the pool—her shirt lost in the water—her green bottoms and clinging. “I’m a fireworg!” she yelled, spinning until she fell, laughing uncontrollably. Her head was a foggy whirl, her limbs heavy and wild, the alcohol making her feel like a goddess gone rogue.

Tessa, seven plus drinks and counting, crawled onto the grass in her bikini, prosecco bottle empty beside her. Her top was untied, hanging around her stomach, baring her breasts. “Best… barbecue… ever,” she slurred, her bob plastered to her face, her body a sloppy, happy wreck. She tried to stand, collapsed, and laughed, her mind a blissful blank. 

Riley, eight drinks in, staggered out of the pool, bikini bottoms slipping, her Stars and Stripes tee back on but soaked. “Fuck… yeah,” she muttered, chugging a shot, her voice hoarse. She grabbed you, only for her legs to give out, dropping her into a chair, her head lolling, the alcohol a roaring, reckless tide in her veins. “Fuck me,” she commanded.

As you did Simone, something like nine drinks total, lay flat on a towel, her red bikini untied, sarong gone. “Je suis… fini,” she whispered, giggling, her ponytail undone, hair fanning out. Her body was numb, her mind a slow, drunken dream, the world spinning as she stared at the fireworks.

You looked over them as you fucked Riley, shaking your head as the five women—Claire’s hazy bliss, Jules’ wild chaos, Tessa’s sloppy joy, Riley’s reckless abandon, and Simone’s dreamy ruin—turned your barbecue into a drunken battlefield. “Happy Fourth,” you smiled, flipping a burger, knowing their memories would be as spotty as the fireworks fading above. Yet, each would see fireworks as you fucked the,

You all crashed around midnight—Claire and Jules tangled on a lounge chair, Tessa and Riley sprawled by the pool, Simone out cold on her towel—nude, covered in your cum, bottles scattered, a glorious, wasted mess of a holiday.

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