Felicia, the oldest.

DKM knew from past experience that one of the most effective strategies for taking down a pack was to start at the top. Felicia was the eldest sister, and if they could get her to bend over and accept a load of DKM cum, the others would probably fall in line soon after. Of course, this was easier said than done, but the frat boys of DKM had generations of experience, research, tactics, and training to fall back on, so it was with confidence that a tall frat boy approached the sisters, after making a few discreet hand motions towards his comrades.

“So,” he asked confidently, “What are you lovely ladies drinking today?” Before the sisters could reply or attempt to fend him off, another Bro gave a perfectly choreographed stumble, spilling his drink all over Felicia.

“What the hell!” Felicia exclaimed, looking down to stare openmouthed at the red liquid, which had been splashed all over her bikini-clad breasts, no doubt staining the fabric, and also seemed to have run down her torso to soak into her bikini bottoms, likely ruining them as well.

“Come on dude!” Remarked the first bro, expertly feigning his anger despite this being exactly what he had signaled for, "Not cool, bro." The lead bro reached across the bar to produce a towel, and immediately set upon drying Felicia off, dabbing away the liquid on her torso, then pressing the towel against her bottoms to soak up the excess liquid there, and finally dabbing at her breasts and the red-soaked fabric covering them.

"Sorry Justin," The bro with the empty cup mumbled, doing his best to look drunk and unsteady on his feet. In actuality, it had taken a good deal of skill and precision to aim the drink correctly while pretending to trip over his feet, a technique he had perfected after hours of practice. Still, his work was done now; Justin was drying off Felicia's tits as she and her sisters stared dumbfounded. Empty cup in hand, the bro drunkenly waddled away, back to the frat house, leading away much of the DKM pack with him.

As the crowd dispersed a bit, Felicia seemed to regain her wits and shoved Justin away, in no mood to let some frat boy feel her up under the pretense of helping. "Shit," She muttered, looking at the damp, stained fabric of her bikini, "This is probably ruined."

Justin shook his head apologetically. “Look, babe, I’m sorry. I mean, you probably know we wanted to get you out of your clothes, but this isn’t the way to go about it. Listen,” He reached into his pocket and produced his wallet, and into his wallet to produce a business card, “My uncle has a clothing shop just off the boardwalk, stop by, tell him Justin sent you,” He signed the back of the card with the marker around his neck, “And he’ll set you up with a replacement. On me.” He pressed the signed card into Felicia’s hands, then stepped back, looking her over and shaking his head sadly. “You’re a beautiful girl, and it looked great on you. Shame to see a good suit ruined.” With that, he turned and left. There were some sluts you could bend over and mark as DKM territory in a matter of minutes, but he had a feeling this was a slut who would taste better after she had some time to simmer.