TACTICAL TWISTER

by Holly Rennick

AUTHOR'S NOTES

Noting my penchant for games, author Wet Dream Girl (I told her that her name was somewhat prejudicial, but who am I to judge?) suggested building a plot around Twister, Milton Bradley's 1966 contortion classic.

"The Game that Ties You Up in Knots" gave new meaning to the phrase "contact sports".  "Foreplay in a box," reviewers called it.  Who didn't cop a feel on the polka-dot vinyl floor mat?  Johnny Carson's Tonight Show Twister sex with peek-a-boob Eva Gabor goosed up the sales.  The original and current game boxes I've posted at http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Holly_Rennick/Boxes.jpg.

And all these years later, Twister's a major sex industry.  A guy invites you over to see his bed duvet of Twister design and your line is, "Oh, I used to play that as a girl.  How did it go?".  (One disadvantage is that it takes a third person to spin the spinner.)  I Googled full frontals of "Nude Twister".  We authors are left in the entertainment dust by "Let's Play Anal Twistie", available from XXX video stores.

But Milton Bradley's still the place to start.  Cindi will cover the rules, objective, strategic and tactical topics.  Holly will add the story.

HOW TO PLAY

Take off your shoes and face your guy from opposite ends of the mat.  The six-row mat is better than the original four-row.

Place one foot on the yellow dot closest to your end and the other foot on the blue dot.  The guy does the same on his.

Spin the spinner.  "Right Hand Blue", so put your right hand on a blue dot of your choice.

Spin again and your opponent makes his move.  (There's a both-move-at-once variation, but it's too rushed.)

There can't be more than one hand or foot on any dot.  If your called-out hand or foot is already on a dot of the called-out color, you must  move it to another dot of that color.  If there's no way to get your left hand to a yellow dot than to reach between your opponent's legs, just say, "Hope you don't mind."  If others are watching, you can bet he'll act stone-faced.

Never remove your hand or foot from a dot, except that you may lift a hand or foot to allow another hand or foot to pass.

The official objective: "To outlast opponents by stretching and entwining your body like a human pretzel around a large vinyl sheet emblazoned with multicolored dots, without falling down."

But disjoint your hip to win some silly acrobatic face-off?  No way, sister!

That "without falling down" was just a ruse!  Of course you may fall down.

The real objective is to have sex, but probably not on the plastic sheet.  Yuck!  Or maybe just to bank a memory for later enjoyment.  Ultimately it's about sex.

You'll want a strategy.  Moving toward your opponent's portion of the mat, forcing him to go over or under you, is pretty good.  Over or under?  Well we know what we like, but if you haven't played with him before, maybe it's best to settle for the bottom.  It's not fair, though, him being on top and you losing the official game.

But basically, it's all about tactics.  Here are a few:

   Goose him for quick collapse, for example.  The official rules don't prohibit it.  Of course if he doesn't fall right away, he'll try to goose you back.  You'll both fall down and not agree who hit first, presuming you're still concerned about the official objective.

   Use your neckline to make him forget his balance.

   Use your butt to lead him toward the precarious dots.

   Breathe heavily.

   Don't goose him like a conquistador; just brush his penis, make it seem accidental.  He'll even twist inadvertently to help.  Keep the tease going, drawing him further and further from a secure perch on the vinyl.

   At the end, where just a little hip bump would send him sprawling, don't do it.  Let his hope for serendipitous masturbation lead him to flatten himself to the plastic.  It's your choice about rewarding his acquiescence.

The game's rated "6 to Adult", so at 15 and 17, my brother and I were OK.

THE COMPLETE GAME

"Christmas Wind-Down" is what Mom always called the week before New Year's, a time just to enjoy not going to school.  Try out your new outfits, sneak the remaining sweets, skate, talk on the phone.  There's lots to do.

We'd gotten Twister from Aunt Eileen and Uncle Todd.  The game looked OK, but anything given to both of us never seemed special.  Probably it would end up in the game closet with its spinner broken.  Bruce was never careful about anything.

We'd probably have shelved the game un-tried, but for the fact that his buddies Keith and Paul were over and the weather was from Canada.

"Why don't you kids try that twist-up game," Mom's suggestion.  "The picture looks fun."

Normally I'd have had nothing to do with the slouches, but I was as bored as were they.

It took us just a minute to figure out the rules and decide to go one-on-one.

Keith and Bruce blustered against each other until Keith landed on his ass.  It looked like Bruce pushed his friend's arm, but Paul was the referee.

Against me, Paul was a bit more clever, trying to reach under my throat to get his left hand on green, but I blocked his foot from a solid four-point stance and his knee hit when he tried to get his right foot on the same color.

Championship round, my brother tried to bridge me to where I couldn't twist upwards, but I did.  (Paul said was almost like a reverse in wrestling.)  Bruce had to cross his feet and I got a lucky spin, needing to move my own foot just one color outwards.  The others saw Bruce's elbow touch, trying to reach behind mine.

So I was the champ, but we played a bunch more times and I lost my share.

The thing about Twister is that you have to ignore getting handled.  I had my bra on and winter jeans, so it wasn't like they really felt anything.  They were just my brother's friends, anyway.

The other thing about Twister is that you pretend to not recognize what you do to them.  A guy's butt you'd not feel without a reason.  Or what's more unsettling is wondering if you're against his dick.  You'd have to be pretty bold to reach between a guys legs in non-competitive circumstances.

It's not really like there's usually much to bump into, but you still wonder.  It's not that much different from wondering if they know when they're squishing your pubic hair.

*****

"Wanna' play that game?"  Bruce and I and been watching TV after supper, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis, Jr. trying to be funny.  Christmas Wind-Down, we could stay up late.

I right off knew of what Bruce spoke.  He'd not have suggested Monopoly.  I wasn't sure, however, why he suggested it.  I sure as shootin' knew what I thought of it, though.  Every one of those guys had rubbed my tits that afternoon.  Plus I'm sure looked down my shirt, my red flannel.  I had on my Christmas-present-to-myself bra.  I loved the game!

"Sure," casually.  "I'll get it."

My first clue was when he added, "The folks are asleep."

Very true.

My second clue was how he pretended not to notice when I undid my top button.  Flannel's so hot.  Nobody buttons the top of a flannel shirt, except maybe Dad.

Spinning the spinner can be hard when you're barely balanced, but we managed, sliding it around to keep it within reach.  He beat me first game.  Elbowing my tit on a "Right Hand Red" seemed pretty obvious, but I pretended not to notice.  Wrapping his leg around my butt was blatant, too.  At the end, he was basically holding me up by my chest.  If he'd have let go, I'd have lost, so actually he was helping me.

We got some 7-Up and added a little white wine.  The folks wouldn't notice and it wasn't enough to get us drunk or anything.

The guy might just as well have said, "Oh, I'm looking at that little bluebird that was just behind your shoulder," when I undid my second button, but I just fanned my face.

"Again?" he challenged.

It was fun, actually, even the whispered arguments.  I suppose we each let the other win a few protests even when we knew we were right.  Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was showing my underwear.  Anyway, it was fun.

Neither of us had any idea why Dean Martin and Sammy Davis, Jr. were toasting each other, but having the TV going seemed prudent.

"Know what?" Bruce giggled, me just having fallen on top of him, my knee across his pants.  If he didn't move, why should I? 

"I know you fell first; that's what."  I considered jiving him about carrying a Swiss Army knife in his front pocket, but figured he might not think it too funny.

"Know how they play this game in college?" trying to undo my next button.

I didn't know that they even had this game in college.

"In their underwear," answering his own question.

"Says who?"

"Says everybody."

I looked at him.  "How much underwear?"

"Top and bottom," as if he really knew.

"If you don't tell," I agreed without exactly being asked.  Maybe I'd not agreed if I'd had on old panties, but these were nice ones.

"Promise."

I'd seen my brother's underpants lots of times, but not him stripping down to them.  I suppose he'd have said the same about mine.  Sure, he'd seen my bra, but maybe not my shirt coming off.

We must have played ten more times, at first a bit awkwardly, but by the end, in full battle.  I knew he could sort of see my hair through the cotton, black behind the white.  And the crack of my butt.  I tried for positions where he couldn't see my front too closely, but couldn't really stop it.

His cock was as obvious as a 5-cent Tootsie Roll.  Like me, he tried to turn, but like him, I saw anyway.  It wasn't as much that I bumped his thing in pretty much every game as it was that he knew how I was doing it.  Plus probably more.  Not that the back of your scalp can tell something, but he might think that my hair had feeling too.  Anyway, I'd trail it on him for effect.

He was a good sport until it started to get big, something maybe he didn't want me knowing.  So I'd let him get away.  Like if my period had started, he'd have let me escape.

But by the end, he even stopped trying to get away.

He was centered against my rear.  I knew from reading that one way to tell when a guy succumbs is when he slips into a slow fucking motion.  Even not having been fucked myself, I knew it right off.  Maybe I should have moved my butt away, but I knew I'd already made him really, really big.  It was like I was supposed to know.

Rather than dismounting me, like he was supposed to do to switch his left foot, he reached under my chest and let his wrist rub up and down.

"Cheater," I challenged.  "You can't move once you're somewhere."  I suppose my filling my lungs told him to ignore me.  It was in total violation of what the box said.

"Well you're moving too," he justified, already letting his thumb find the divide between my cups.  Liar, I decided.  I wasn't moving.  It was his hips that were making me push back.

"'Cause I'm trying to escape," I lied, breathing out so my fit would be looser.

I'd never had my nipple rubbed, except by myself.  I couldn't pay it much attention, though, the way his cock was rubbing up my cheeks.

But when he tried to push my bra all the way up, I decided no and fell down.  The light was on and he wasn't at all being romantic.

We both dressed quickly.

*****

We hadn't even played Twister that many times by February, but I knew that Bruce would want to tonight.  The folks would be at bridge club till 11:00.  I'd worn the flannel shirt, but more specially, my Christmas bra again..

I wasn't going to just give in, though. I'd still want to twist him around a little.  When you're good at masturbating your brother, you make him earn it.

We'd come a long way, dot-to-dot like a little kid's drawing book.  The first time I masturbated him was still Christmas Vacation, an afternoon when Mom wouldn't be back much before Dad came home from work.

It only took a grin for us to strip to our underwear.  We were by now a little cavalier about the spinner, making up our own moves until he'd mounted my butt, our hips finding their rhythm, what had felt big before made big again.

It hadn't occurred to me that he'd actually climax, but the way he rubbed up and down wasn't unlike how I rubbed my labia in my own bed and I could hear his breathing.  But I still didn't think he would.  After all, I was his sister!

But then again, maybe it's more comfortable with a sister than with the flaky girlfriends he went for.  Anyway, it wasn't as if I had much choice.

And feeling my brother's wetness seep against my ass of course affected my own arousal.  Like a girl just sits there with her butt in the air?  The tug of my crotch was enough to get me engaged, but I fell forward so he could crease my butt as long as he wanted.

"Wow!" decreed my brother as if he'd done some great deed, later lying on his stomach so I'd not see whatever he didn't want me to see.

"You like?" flashing my 15-year-old temptress smile.  It's easy to be bold when you know he's spent.

*****

I learned about testicles when he had his feet on the outside dots, his hands near the top and I was scrunched at the bottom.  He really had no choice but to let me satisfy my curiosity.)

"Come on, you gotta' take your turn," his protest when I opened his boxer leg from behind.

"Don't they ever get in the way?" my question.

I know my inspecting his balls gave him a huge erection, but it was pointed the other way, and in any case, I already knew its size.

I'd never quite reach into his underpants, but by now was pretty bold about squeezing through.  If he wanted to play the big brother role, I'd let him rub against me, but if he were compliant, I stroke him more gently and he'd last longer.

*****

We were inside, watching television, our parents at another affair.  I'd somewhat bruised my hip skating earlier that week, but I wasn't too sore.

"Wanna play?" I volunteered.  Some things don't need a lot of explanation.  We'd gone through the stage where we'd say, "play Twister," but even that now seemed superfluous.  We'd always set up the mat and start as if we were official.  My question was hardly a question.  He'd have wanted to if I'd offered in school assembly, he was so happy to shoot a big spot into his boxers.

"Playing", of course, was Bruce coming in his underwear, it not occurring to him that I might also.  I didn't see it as discriminatory.  It was better, actually, as a girl's private time isn't something a brother should know much about.

I still say he should have asked first, not told me it was new rules.

(1) A player who falls removes an item of clothing.  As only one hand or foot may be lifted at one time to do so, the other player may help.  If the spinner lands on red, both participants remove an article.

It's more fun undressing each other than just starting out semi-nude.  If you've not seen each other naked before, pretend like it's no big deal.  Don't worry If your brother's not as stiff as a rod; sometimes guys just get embarrassed.  Keep playing and he'll reveal himself.

When he pulled down my panties the first time, I was facing down so he couldn't really see.  But reversing my feet on Yellow and Blue made me face up.  You should still keep your thighs together.

(From a survey on the Web.  "Have you ever played Naked Twister?  Yes, 13.51%.  (70).  No, but I'm willing to learn, 79.15% (410).  No way, 7.34% (38)."  So we didn't invent it, or anything.)

(2) If you want to slow it down, pretend there are spinner instructions like, "Kiss what's closest."

I'd act like maybe I was going to smooch the middle of his green plaid undershorts, but just kiss his hip bone.  He'd have let me do whatever.

(3) Add a little talcum powder.  My idea, actually.  Especially later in the game when you're more on the mat.  Vinyl gets sticky.

(4) If the mat's rows were numbered 1-6, put your right heel on Green-5 and your left heel on Red-5.  Face upwards with your right hands under your butt on Yellow-3 and your left hand on Blue-3.

Bruce let me cheat and rest my elbows a little.  The real difference from (4) is that your heels are now on the outside dots.  I knew that's how you do it, but didn't like to be told.

(5) Your brother goes above, face down, left toes on Yellow-6 and right toes on Blue-6.  His hands go under your shoulders at  Yellow-1 and Blue-1.  (Confused?  See the diagram on http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Holly_Rennick/Layout.jpg.)

Actually, I'd rather put my hands around his back and be on a pillow, but there's no way to fit that with the official game.  The first few times, anyway, just get like he says so he'll think he's inventing it.

A cooperative game sounds conceptually nice, but it's competition that keeps your libido challenged.  Go back and forth, cooperate, compete, cooperate, compete.  It's a ton of fun.

(6) Forget about the spinner.

This is the time when you want to leave your heels on the outside dots, the green and the red.

(7) As noted earlier, "Don't fall down" is just a ruse.  He'll let you.

All those instructions make the game seem pretty linear, though.  Our first fuck was a little less stepwise.

Probably he thought that me being naked would make creaming more sexy for him.  He'd have liked to rub his cock on my mound and gotten me all gooey.  Or maybe on my tits.  (Actually, I read that if they cream your mound you can get pregnant!  Sometimes something runs in!)

So I just waited till the luck of the spin got us more-or-less in the diagramed positions, the crucial difference being that he was on the bottom, his thighs were between my knees.  "Oh, dear," I predicted.  "The spinner says for me to move two dots up, but then I'd be sitting on your collar bone."

For all his stud-man older-brother pretense, he'd not want my pussy shoved in is face.

"So to get there," I continued, "I'll just need to slide over you."

Staying firmly on his thighs to immobilize him, I lifted his erection as if I somehow I thought I could move it aside.  "Holy cow!  This things as hard as a rock.  Is if for real?" in mock horror.  I didn't need an answer.  "How come?  You weren't planning to get me or anything, were you?  Put it some place?"

He'd turned purple, holding his breath.

"Well, the thing is, we're playing girls' rules," I explained.  If there were all these college rules and things, surely there'd be girls' rules, too.

Oh did he struggle as I lifted myself up him just enough to align us.  He'd thought he had little sister twisting like his sex slave, ready to bring him off without afterwards being able to complain that he'd swiped her virginity.  Realizing at that last moment that he'd again been reversed!

The best games are built on simple moves.  Hold him nice and steady.  Push down.  Viola!  That simple!

A few tiny twists for tease and then compete, cooperate, compete, cooperate.

There'd be plenty of opportunities to get fucked in whatever pretzel shapes we got spun into.  Just playing in our underwear, we'd discovered maybe a dozen combinations.

Plus he'd probably cream on me everyplace before we broke the spinner.

But, Brucie, who got fucked first?  Who lay there while I went up and down, up and down?  Who bounced his pretty butt on yellow and blue?  Who reached up and held my tits?  Who did Twister Sister make come when it was just the right time for her, too?  Who ended up all slobbery slick?  Who let his sister dry him off with her hair and then trail her locks against your nose so you could smell?

And you loved every bit of it, Brucie boy!  And sure, we need a rematch  And I'll let you win a bunch, too.  Scoot me all over the dots, if you like.  And we don't even have to do it on that icky vinyl mat.

VARIETIES

But there's more to Twister than orgasms.

   Three-player Twister.  The third player faces the center from the red side, a foot on each on the two middle red dots.  For close trios, I guess.

   Team Twister.  Two girls vs. two boys.  Start side-by-side so that all four dots are covered.  Team members can cover the same dot with one hand or foot each.

   Tournament of Champions Twister.  Reykjavik, Iceland.  Sanctioned by Milton-Bradley.  813 teams in 1998.  So serious.

   Molson Twister.  24 by 40 foot mat.  So Canadian!

   Giant Twister.  An inflatable mat large enough for up to ten players.  So soft!

   Guinness Book of World Records Twister.  The 4,160-contestant marathon at the University of Massachusetts.

   Water Twister.  One person in charge of the hose.

   Bedroom Twister.  "Package includes: Official Twister Duvet Cover (Double Bed Size), Two Twister Pillowcases, Soft Double-Dice.  Beware of cheap imitations!"  See them play at http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Holly_Rennick/Sheet.jpg.

   Pen-Pal Twister.  (Didn't know where to put this, actually.)  A Web pen-pal finder asks for favorite game.  Monopoly (248) is followed by football (185), chess (144), soccer (121), spin the bottle (121), Scrabble (115), Twister (115) and basketball (100).  Spin the bottle?  The Sims (61), Playstation (46) and computer games (39) tell us that electronic sex isn't as fun.

   Shoe Polish Twister.  Back in 1965, Reyn Guyer was designing a promotion for a Johnson's Shoe Polish mail-in.  "Send a buck and a box top".  Guyer was toying with a notion of color patches on kids' shows along with a correspondingly-colored walk-around grid, when it occurred to him that what it might work better as a game.  Guyer sold the "Pretzel" idea to  Milton-Bradley.

So enjoy being a pretzel.  But thank heavens that shoe polish is no longer involved.

END

HOLLY ON THE WEB

Wherever you found this story on the web, thank you to the server.  My problem is that I've no systematic way to update the various servers.  As literary errors (or just poor word usages) are made known to me, I'll repair that which is salvageable on http://www.asstr.org/~Holly_Rennick/.  My website's not much graphically, I admit, but HTML isn't my native language.

You can contact me via the site's message form, that HTML code by the smart people at ASSTR.

I won't be changing the story significantly, so if you didn't like it before, that much will remain the same.  But if you did like it, an update may read a bit more cleanly.

   Holly
