(28f) When an ‘innocent’ game of “Strip Twister” turns into a Fuck-Fest. [Group]

A very Merry New Year’s Eve to one and to all. And a hearty congratulations on making it through the cesspit of despair and forlorn hope that was 2020. Here’s to a much improved and, hopefully, for more optimistic 2021.

I’d imagine due to the circumstances of the hell-year, the majority of you will be having somewhat more subdued NYE celebrations than usual. For most, myself included, the cusp of a new solar orbit is usually treated as a rudimentary excuse to drink to glorious excess in excellent company, and make excessively forward moves on a total stranger. I’ve always taken the expression ‘start the New Year with a bang’ in its most literal form.

This year I’ll be missing out on such festivities and instead will be raising a glass and extolling a mighty ‘FUCK OFF AND GOOD RIDDANCE’ 2020 solo. Which, aside from missing out on the above frivolity, also means I won’t have the opportunity to share one of my favourite ever NYE anecdotes to whichever unfortunate may find themselves beside me. So instead, people of Reddit, I’m sharing it with you.

**The drunken New Year’s Eve Party where we played ‘Strip Twister’.**

I suspect it’ll surprise no one to learn that this incident happened when I was a student. My first year as a student, no less. Those early (un)innocent days when the prospect of sexual adventure was high on everyone’s priority list. The University had closed for the Christmas break and mid December, and we all ventured home for Christmas, but had made arrangements to gather back together for a New Year’s Eve party. This was the first year of the rest of our lives (God help me, someone actually used that phrase. I’m not a violent person, but I nearly punched him), and it only felt right that our newly forged friendship group should see it in together.

All of which is making it sound rather more magnanimous and laudable than it actually was. Essentially someone wanted to host a massive house party, and everybody saw it was an opportunity to get gloriously hammered, in either interpretation of the word.

I’ll save lingering on the planning and deployment of the event, as, entertaining and hugely anecdote worthy though this was, it’s not especially sexy. Unless you find the idea of highlighted binders and spreadsheets erotic, in which case I’m jealous of how easily pleased you must be.

In short, the party was to be hosted by the friend with the largest student accommodation – Sarah. Her housemates weren’t returning until further into the New Year, so we’d have the whole house to make use of without issue – along with more than enough time to clean up any evidence that shenanigans took place.

The invite list was excessive. Rather than stick to just those within our (already sizeable to the point of unwieldy) friendship group, invites were extended to anyone sharing a class, friends of friends and, apparently, anyone ‘nice’ that anyone had encountered over Christmas.

But it was for NYE. Fuck it. If you can’t be excessive to celebrate an entirely arbitrary date, when can you be?

The day itself arrived and I settled on my plan of attack. Chiefly to get comfortably drunk early and then have plenty of time to hone in on who I needed to position myself beside for a New year’s kiss. I knew already there were several strong options, and I was more than prepared to elbow friends out of the way to make sure I was on hand. To help, I’d chosen the most dangerous of my HIAATAMT dresses. (Which, for the uninitiated is a ‘Hi, I’m Alice And These Are My Tits’ dress – I.e. One that features sufficiently ample cleavage to ensure many minutes of precisely zero eye contact).

What I’d failed to account for was that, being such an organised group of people, we’d got everything in place by early afternoon. Which meant me had little else to do with the day but begin pre-drinking. At around 2pm.

Frankly how any of us even made it to the New year was a miracle.

The party itself was, entirely unsurprisingly given the number of people invited, massively over-subscribed. At one point best estimate was that we’d somehow squeezed 70-or-so people into the distinctly-medium-sized student house. Every room was crammed full with party goers having little option to be pressed up against each other. While this approach isn’t without its charms, it’s not exactly the NYE shindig many were hoping for, and long before the bells rang in a significant number decide to seek revelry elsewhere – including many supposed core members of our own group. Leaving instead a ragtag mix of individuals only a small handful of which I actually knew. But they were dedicated and, unlike some friends, actually *wanted* to be there, so as far as I was concerned they were wonderful and welcomed folk.

Midnight came and went. I kissed several people, but I was at peak drunkeness at that point of the evening, so I can’t be entirely sure who. Soon after I was downing pints of water and took a tactical nap in order so as not to entirely bow out of the evening when, in many regards, it was really only just getting started.

I awoke at around 1.30am, feeling surprisingly fresh for such a brief power nap. I was still excessively drunk, but I’d regained a large portion of my actual sentience which felt an appropriate level to be at to continue socialising.

By now the party had haemorrhaged more revellers, and around 15 remained – the majority of which had settled into the main living space, drinking and now playing games. I was welcomed back to the fold with a cheer, and was thrilled spot that two of the guys I’d been intending to kiss were still here. The evening was not a write-off yet!

Further drunken party games ensued. At my insistence we played ‘Spin the Bottle’, but I only ever seemed to end up kissing my own friends, to my own disappointment. This moved on to a game of “Never Have I Ever” wherein I established a thoroughly crude level of play thanks to various questions based around freshers week. My vulgarity was sufficient to see off a small collection of acquaintances, who weren’t as comfortable with sharing. Little did they know they’d had a lucky escape.

The result of this tone lowering was that a degree of sexual tension had now arrived. It proved too much for one recent pairing who could contain themselves no longer and took themselves away to a bedroom to bring some bang into the New Year celebrations. It’s worth bearing in mind that their enjoyment added something of a soundtrack to what followed.

Remaining in the living room now was myself, my close friends; Sarah, Charlie and Mike, the two guys I’d been eyeing up; Liam and Matt, two girls I barely knew; Kirsty and [I still don’t know what her name was, so I’ll call her ‘Jane’] , and a further three guys I didn’t know at all, but I learned were called David, Dean and [Can’t remember the last one. Let’s call him Bob].

Who suggested we play Twister, I can’t be certain. It may even have been me as it’s a game I’m usually pretty good at (when sober), and therefore it’s likely a game I was sure I could win. What I do know is that it was Charlie who suggested we make it STRIP twister ‘to make it more fun’. The rules were established that if you slipped, missed your spot or fell over, you lost an item of clothing.

Volunteering to play was myself, Charlie, Liam, Kirsty and Dean. Sarah nominated herself as spinner.

The game began, as you might expect, with a great deal of cheating. Which is to say deliberate pushing, tickling, nudging and prodding to ensure that the ‘strip’ aspect became a key feature. To their credit, the guys didn’t start quite as strong on the offence as we did – Kirsty and myself all but wrestling several of them to the ground to ensure they lost items quickly. Only when Dean was shirtless, sockless and about to lose his jeans did he start nudging back, and Liam took the high ground even when he was down to his boxers.

I’ll forgo a play by play account of them game – wherein I was cheated out of victory several times, notably by Sarah herself who stopped spinning randomly and started choosing impossible reaches for me, just so I too would get down to my underwear. – and jump to the tipping point. Soon enough we were all just in our pants and a tension filled the room. Was this a sensible place to stop, or do we go further? Naturally we all decided to go further. Kirsty deliberately taking out Dean’s foot so he fell, and thus lost his boxers.

With nudity now apparently the objective, Dave joined forces with Sarah to forgo spinning the wheel and instead manoeuvring everyone into impossible positions so that they’d have to shed their final garments. I was unfairly ganged up upon, so was the first of the females to find myself naked. Though Kirsty fell to the same fate just one move behind. Liam was the last to bare all, but he was well worth the wait.

However, the game did not stop there. Now there were five naked individuals al squeezed onto a Twister mat. And David and Sarah saw an opportunity for further fun. Now, instead of just offering impossible moves, they deliberately selected moves in which to position us as *intimately* in, on and around each other as was possible. – Position Liam holding himself up like a crab, while Kirsty squats over him, with his head between her legs, while I straddle him, with my head in Dean’s lap – that manner of setup.

At some point during this Charlie bowed out – she’d unwisely continued drinking throughout and, I fear, had reached her limit. But myself, Kirsty, Liam and Dean all seemed in it for the long haul. In my mind I still wanted to ‘win’. How that could actually be achieved when the game had been ditched I don’t entirely know, but I was determined to claim victory all the same.

With Charlie gone, there was a little more room on the mat. Which meant Sarah and Dave were able to be more creative. They started googling obscure sexual positions to position us in, in between rounds of ‘lets just get both cocks in Alice’s face’, or ‘Let’s sandwich Liam between Kirsty and Alice’s arses’.

Needless to say, as things progressed, the degree of arousal caused by the positioning increased tenfold. Liam had cracked first, his erection plain to see after he’d been positioned with it pressed up against Kirsty’s arse. I’d meanwhile given Dean a suggestive lick or two when his cock had been dangling in my face for a full round. And it wasn’t just the guys. I can’t speak for Kirsty, but I certainly was – to put not too fine a point on it – horny as holy fuck. Which is why the next time I found Liam’s cock within grabbing distance of my face, I ended up taking him in my mouth.

This was a clear moment of escalation and one that, I feel, was inevitable. Sarah and Dave both laughed, – Sarah commenting ‘Finally!’, Matt, who up until now had just been watching, laughing, shouting suggestions and enjoying, suddenly had a look of desire and regret in his eyes, Mike and Jane were already engaged in tonsil tennis on the sofa and paying us no heed, and Bob had apparently left, though I have no idea at what point he’d called it a night.

In one swift move, I’d apparently ended the game. I glanced beside me and Dave had already slipped a finger into Kirsty while she was watching me intently in a manner I wasn’t quite able to judge in the moment. She was either patiently waiting for her turn with Liam, or perhaps her time spent with her head between my chest earlier had a more profound effect on her than I’d realised.

The precise order of what followed is long since lost to the mists of time. But it’s telling of my competitive nature that I remember with more clarity the details of the game that proceeded the fuck-fest than the actual fuck-fest itself.

So, in no particular order: Sarah and Dave had clearly bonded over their Gamesmastering of the Twister and ended up copping off with each other. To the best of my knowledge they didn’t actually fuck, but they got very handsy and got each other off.

Mike and Jane didn’t seem to care much for anyone else’s shenanigans, having already started on each other at some point mid-game. They took each other away to one of the bedrooms soon after the intimacy started and added to the chorus of background noise sexual liaison.

As for the rest of us? Well reader, we discovered precisely why Twister mats were made wipe clean.

Precisely who fucked who and in what order is hazy at best. To call it group sex would be slightly overstating it – rarely were more than two individuals engaged with each other at a single time, but instead, in the spirit of the game that came before it, everyone ‘took a turn’. Including Matt who, having missed out on the action until this point, threw himself in with an enthusiasm and hunger that rather ruined his stamina. (For the last to join, he was the first to cum.)

Dean surprisingly turned out to be the best fuck of the three. Though it didn’t stop me from dating Liam for a time. I delighted in telling people precisely how we met. He was somewhat more reticent.

The cleanup of the house took nearly four days in total.

We decided it was probably most sensible to just bin the Twister mat. Some games just can’t be topped.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/knvlrc/28f_when_an_innocent_game_of_strip_twister_turns