(Drunk Older Sister. WARNING!! SMUT!!!)

You were living with your older sister for a few years after both of you left your parents' house. Not because you couldn't afford your own place, but because it was easier to split rent and utilities. Besides, there was no one else you'd rather live with. Her drinking problem was a known issue, but she wasn't violent or destructive—just a bit melodramatic when intoxicated. Tonight, while she was out at a party, you were lounging on the couch in the living room, flipping through channels. Nothing held your attention except reruns of The Simpsons and Family Guy, which you eventually turned off.

You were about to get up when you heard fumbling at the front door—keys jingling, followed by a string of curses. The door swung open, and your sister stumbled in. To your shock, she was completely nude beneath her open coat, clutching a half-empty bottle of wine. Her calico fur was matted in places, and her violet hair was a tangled mess. Her massive breasts swayed with each unsteady step, and her thick thighs glistened with what looked like sweat—or something else.

She locked the door, took a swig from the bottle, and her amber eyes landed on you. A hiccup escaped her lips before she spoke, her voice slurred but laced with a familiar, teasing annoyance.

Sister: "And hiccup what a-are you looking at? Hmmmmmmmm? Never- hiccup never saw your sister drunk? Or naked? Or both?"

She didn't wait for an answer, lurching toward the couch and collapsing beside you. Her coat was shrugged off and tossed aside, revealing her full, dripping-wet nudity. She spread her legs without shame, her glistening slit on full display as she placed the empty wine bottle on the coffee table. Her arm wrapped around your torso, pulling you into a tight side hug that mashed your face against her soft, milk-damp fur and the warm swell of her breasts. The scent of her arousal—sweet and musky—filled the air.

Sister: "Ughhhh, Jeremy Clarkson is such a fucking pussy, like, fuuuuck, that- hiccup... that bitch can't even decide what he wants. When it comes to sex with whores like his mother, he's always ready, but when I asked about starting dating? That- hiccup that bitch starts backing up while saying some bullshit like 'Uga bunga, we can't start dating. You're not my type of woman. Uhhhhh, I like eating poops' and other kinds of crap... Well, he didn't say the last part, but fuck, I hate that cunt. Like, fuck, I'm twenty-six years old and still don't have a boyfriend, and the worst part? I'm still fucking virgin. Like, fucking hell, why can't I have a proper fuck? Do I ask too much?!"

She punctuated her rant with another gulp from the bottle, her free hand already wandering down her body. She didn't even look at you as her fingers slid between her wet folds, stroking herself with lazy, practiced motions. Her hips bucked slightly against her own touch, her breath hitching.

Sister: "I mean... like... fuck, why don't I have a fucking boyfriend? I mean, just look at my body, I just- hiccup... don't understand why. Like, fuck, I don't know w-whyyyahhhhh~"

Her sentence dissolved into a loud, shuddering moan as she came right there on the couch, her juices pooling beneath her and soaking into the fabric. She trembled, catching her breath, before turning her glazed eyes to you. There was no embarrassment in her expression—just exhaustion and a hint of vulnerability.

Sister: "Ughhh... fuck, sorry for that. I'm just... so drunk and horny. I mean, fuck... I wanna sleep, right here and now. So move on..."

Without waiting, she shifted, sprawling across the couch. One leg draped over your lap, the other tucked between her and the cushions. She rested her head on the armrest, her body fully exposed—her massive breasts rising and falling with each breath, her slit still glistening with arousal. She looked at you, her voice softening, the alcohol loosening her tongue further.

Sister: "Hey... can you- hiccup tell me something? Like... Do you love me? Like... your sister? Because bro, I- hiccup... I fucking love you, bro. You're so cool, unlike most of these bitches around. Like, you're just the best, y'know? I know I can be a cunt sometimes, but fuck, dude... I fucking love you. For so, so goddamn much..."

Her eyes fluttered shut, and within seconds, she was asleep, snoring softly. Her body remained in that lewd, vulnerable position—legs spread, breasts heaving, her wetness on full display. The air was thick with the scent of her arousal and the faint sweetness of wine.

Now, it's time for you to act. What will you do? Ignore her and go to your bedroom? Cover her with a blanket like a proper sibling? Or... will you use her so accessible body? After all, she's SOOO drunk that she won't even remember anything that might happen this night~

(Wet Dream. WARNING!! SMUT!!!)

The apartment was silent except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant, rhythmic thump of bass from a neighbor's party. You'd just gotten home from a late shift, exhausted and ready to crash. The living room was dark, the only light spilling from the hallway as you kicked off your shoes.

You froze when you saw her—your sister, sprawled across the couch in a way that made your breath catch. She was nude, of course, but this time there was no coat, no pretense. Her calico fur was damp with sweat and something else, glistening in the dim light. Her massive KKK-cup breasts rose and fell with each slow breath, her swollen nipples hard and dark against her orange-and-white fur. Her thighs were parted, one leg draped over the back of the couch, the other hanging off the edge, giving you a perfect, unobstructed view of her wet, glistening slit. A small puddle of her arousal had formed on the cushion beneath her, and the air was thick with the musky, sweet scent of her desire.

She was awake, but barely. Her amber eyes were half-lidded, glazed with a mixture of alcohol and exhaustion. In her hand, a half-empty bottle of wine dangled precariously from her fingertips. She didn't seem to notice you at first, her attention focused on her own body—her free hand lazily tracing patterns over her stomach, dipping lower toward her mound.

When she finally looked up, her lips curled into a slow, drunken smile. "Oh... hey, you're home." Her voice was a husky slur, each word weighted with unspoken need. She didn't bother to cover herself, didn't even try to move. Instead, she spread her legs wider, a silent invitation hanging in the air between you.

Sister: "Mmm... I was waiting for you. Couldn't sleep." She took a shaky sip from the bottle, some of the wine spilling down her chin and onto her chest, tracing a path through her fur. Her fingers continued their slow, teasing exploration, slipping between her folds with a soft, wet sound. "You look tired. Come... sit with me."

She shifted, patting the space beside her on the couch. Her tail twitched, brushing against your leg as you hesitated. The couch was already damp with her fluids, and the cushion beneath her was soaked. She didn't seem to care. Her movements were slow, deliberate, every sway of her hips and sway of her breasts calculated to keep your attention.

Sister: "I had a dream about you tonight... a really good one." Her voice dropped to a whisper, laced with a mix of shame and arousal. "In it, you were touching me. Right here." She guided her own hand lower, circling her clit with a slow, sensual motion, her breath hitching as she spoke. "You were so gentle... so careful. Like you really wanted me."

She looked at you then, her eyes pleading, her cheeks flushed. "Do you... do you ever think about me like that? Like... like this?" Her fingers dipped inside her, her hips bucking slightly as she worked herself open. "I know I'm drunk, and I know I'm probably being gross, but... I can't stop thinking about it. About you."

Her other hand reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed against your thigh. "Please... just... stay. Don't make me go to bed alone. I'm so lonely, and you're the only one who doesn't treat me like a freak." She leaned closer, her breath hot against your ear. "I'll let you do whatever you want. I won't even remember it tomorrow. Just... make me feel good tonight."

Her fingers continued their work, her moans growing louder, more desperate. She was close, her body trembling, her fur damp with sweat and arousal. She looked at you, her expression a mix of vulnerability and raw need, her legs spread wide, her wetness on full display.

Now, it's time for you to act. What will you do? Turn away and leave her to her own devices? Give in to the temptation she's offering? Or perhaps something else entirely? The choice is yours, and she's not going to stop you.