Roselyn-New Years Day

 It was morning when Roselyn Newton returned home. The New Year was already 9 hours old. She was of course drunk and high, and had been since sometime in the early afternoon on New Years eve. She’d passed out sometime around 2am or maybe 3, only to wake up again around 5am, to resume the party, drinking, smoking and fucking. Around 8 she took a fistfull of pills and a line of coke, and made her way to her car. It was a big pink Cadillac. Her chauffeur promptly opened the door, before the cold night could reach her. 

“Where too Ms Roselyn?” he asked.

Somehow she managed the single word, “home,” before lighting a fresh joint.

  Once home, she struggled in her heels up the stairs. Her pussy was filled with seamen, her panties lost. She swayed about, her dress flipping aside to reveal her but. Slowly, one stair step at a time, she made her way up stairs, her heels loudly announcing her drunken return home. At the top of the stairs, she turned and entered the study.

In the study, she leaned against the hearth, warming herself, her right tit falling out. Then in a burst of energy, she staggered forward, and somehow grabbed an open bottle of vodka and drank. 

She grabbed a joint, and unsteadily lit it, and stumbled to the sofa, where she lay down. 

She finished the bottle before the joint, so she discarded the bottle on the floor, exposing her cum filled pussy. She lay there, smoking, the room spinning. Her free hand soon began to play with her wet and sticky pussy.

Then the door creaked open. 

It swung open at an uneven rate, propelled by Roselyne’s sister, Madonna. The older Newton was likewise drunk and high. She was smoking a joint in a filter. The hem of her short dress was hiked up clearly revealing her panties and garters. 

After a long drag of the joint, she held the smoke in, and then released a cloud of smoke, before calling out, “Roselyne, yoo in here? iss almose timme fer the family new years day brunsh,” her heels clicking in the telltale manner on the wood floor of a drunk woman.

“Happy new yeer t' yoo too, Madonna,” Roselyne greeted her sister. 

“Happy new yeer rosie,” Madonna said as staggered into the room, nearly tripping on the rug. “Woups,” she said as she steddied herself on a chair back. “Verry happy new yeer. I doan nowe 'bout yoo, bud im fuggin' trashed,” she admitted as she came around to see her sister. 

“Im havin' a grade timme,” Roselyne told her sister, still fingering herself.

“I'll shay.  Youre sooo wayssed yer fingerin' yourself in fronna me!,” Madonna remarked, pulling her own dress up. 

“Liyke yoo, im fuggin' trashed ann horney.  Grab a boll uhf booze ann less havve summ fun!,” Roselyne un ashamedly told her sister. 

Madonna did just that. As they shared drinks from the bottle, they shared in bringing each other to orgasm, kissing and licking. 

Some time later the two still drunk and high Madonna and Roselyne helped each other back into their dresses. Then arm in arm, and armed with a bottle of liquor and a fresh joint, they set off for New Years Day brunch. They had scarcely stumbled out of the study when they met their stepbrother Van and his girlfriend Ellen. Even as intoxicated as the stepsisters were, it was clear to them Ellen was trashed. She had lost her dress somewhere in the chaos of the night, and now topless, the blonde could only stand in her black lace panties and stockings thanks to the support of the sober, but tired Van. 

Madonna and Roselyne burst into laughter at the sight. Ellen, oblivious to the chaos around her, simply smiled dreamily at the stepsisters, her eyes glazed over from a night of excess. “Ellen, darlin', yoo look liyke yoo coud yuse a zzrink,” Madonna said, offering her the bottle of liquor. Van shook his head in awe as his girlfriend somehow took the bottle and drank.

"Wee're goan fer brunsh," Roselyne announced, her tone implying that there was no room for argument. "Yoo shud join us, van.  It'll be fun.”

Van hesitated, unsure if his girlfriends state of undress would be acceptable. Then, Madonnas dress slid to reveal her right tit, and Roslyns hiked up to reveal her pussy. After a moment of contemplation, he sighed and nodded, knowing that there was no point in trying to resist the pull of his stepsisters' wild energy.

And so, the unlikely group set off for brunch, with Van struggling to keep Ellen upright and Madonna and Roselyne stumbling along beside them, arm in arm. Van, the responsible older brother, led the way, supporting Ellen, the trashed beauty in her scanty attire, and Madonna and Roselyne, the wild, intoxicated and carefree step sisters who seemed to thrive on chaos.

As they collapsed into chairs in the dining room, Van realized he had no need to worry about his girlfriend or stepsisters' state of undress and intoxication. Sitting around the room was not a single sober woman, and several were just as undressed as Ellen. As for the men, some were sober, but none minded the display of sexy drunken women. 

Van sat back in his chair, surveying the scene before him with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. The dining room was a veritable tableau of drunken debauchery, with his girlfriend and stepsisters sprawled across the furniture, their clothing in various states of disarray. The men in the room, some sober, some not, seemed utterly unfazed by the display, their eyes roaming freely over the exposed flesh.

He watched as his girlfriend, her makeup smeared and her hair in disarray, giggled drunkenly and leaned in to whisper something to one of his stepsisters. The other sister, her dress hiked up to reveal a generous expanse of thigh, was exhaling a cloud of smoke.