Months later, Lisa and I broke up for reasons that I’d rather not talk about, but had nothing to do with what Di and I were doing together. It wasn’t the most pleasant of breakups, and consequently I didn’t visit Lisa or her family for several months. Once the relationship drama had generally subsided, Lisa and I were back on talking terms, and she wanted to see me again for some long-needed catch-up time. I came over after work to find her sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop. She was wearing an old plain grey dress. I sat beside her, not wanting to touch her out of awkwardness. We started chatting about what we had been up to since our breakup. The conversation went amicably, though far from the intimacy we had shown. She had gained some weight during our time apart, I noticed. My peripheral vision also noticed that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Although it was the end of winter, it was still cold, and Lisa kept her hands cross over her chest to prevent nipple pokies, though at times I could still see a glimpse of her dark nipple through her neckline.
Not long after I arrived, Di came home from school. She was wearing a white top and jeans. Surprised to see me, she joined us at the table where we talked, gazing at random video clips on the laptop. She looked more cheerful these days because of her recent acceptance into a new course, compared to the general glumness around Lisa. After getting herself a drink of water, Di went into her room. Moments later, she returned wearing the same t-shirt and a pleated skirt.
And no bra.
Her loose top didn’t make it as obvious, but the jiggle did. She sat down, leaned her heavy chest (remember she’s a D-cup vs. Lisa’s 12B) over the dining table and watched video clips with us. Lisa didn’t pay any attention, but I can tell you that a certain part of me under the table was. Di said nothing about it, but it was an incidental moment that would pale in comparison to what we’d experience much later.
Around mid-Spring, the family had to make an emergency trip to Vietnam to visit an ill family member. Apart from costing a lot of money to take the whole family, Di had to remain at home because of her course – the other option being to drop out of it. Di steadfastly refused to throw away her career hopes and Lisa talked their parents into letting her stay. Although Di was 19, she hadn’t earned the trust of her parents (although frankly she was much more capable of looking after herself than Lisa). As a compromise, her parents asked me to stay at home with her while they were away for two weeks. Even though I had the breakup with Lisa, I was still the most responsible person they knew and they trusted me with their house, which in one sense was an honour, though it was kind of intimidating as well. We made the arrangements and moved in the day after the left.
There was a slight problem though: Di didn’t know about it.
As a teenager who was kept under wraps for most her life, sheltered by her parents and kept from doing things most people her age wanted to do, Di was excited at the unexpected freedom she gained from her entire family flying overseas and having the house to herself. She had plans to do things she was never allowed to do before – going out at night, cooking whatever she wanted, invite friends over for parties; the typical stuff.
I arrived just after noon and let myself in using the key the parents had given me. I brought my stuff in and intended to use Lisa’s room as mine. I walked through Di’s room, seeing her still asleep. She stirred and groggily woke up, having been disturbed by my movement and the creaky floorboards. Once she realised I was actually there, she became startled. “What are you doing here?” she asked. I explained to her what her parents had arranged. She was relieved, mostly because she was glad that they hadn’t asked one of her obnoxious aunts or family friends to babysit her. Her phone rang at the moment. She reached over to grab it, letting her blanket slide off her upper body as she leaned over, revealing her impressive rack that, now that I was in her room and up close, looked deliciously soft and inviting.
I didn’t feel bad about getting a hard-on over my ex’s younger sister. It turned out that one of the things she always wanted to do was to sleep naked. With no one in the house, that felt like a good idea. Now that I was there, it made things slightly awkward for her, but over the next couple of days we had settled into a manageable living pattern with my work and her study. There was also a noticeable amount of tension in the house – she was beginning to get adventurous, and since my breakup I hadn’t gotten any action. She had seen me naked before (accidentally, when I was with Lisa) and I’d seen her bits a couple of times. It didn’t take long before something sparked off.
I was doing my work on the dining table while Di was playing on the Wii. She was in her pyjamas, which consisted of a loose silk cotton top and pants, and usual she wore a bra underneath. I was mildly amused at her futile attempts at getting past a certain section in Zelda: Twilight Princess. After a while she got bored and asked if I wanted to play, but I declined, saying that I wasn’t into Zelda and I had a lot of work to do. “How about this then?” she offered, showing me WarioWare. I didn’t know what it was, so she popped it in and showed me. I was hooked on within minutes.
For those who don’t know, WarioWare isn’t so much a game as it is a collection of “microgames” that take several seconds to complete with simple actions, such as launching a rocket by shaking the controller, knocking little characters off platforms or doing cheesy poses. Each section had a particular theme, my favourite being the retro-game section, which had microgames featuring Mario and Starfox, my childhood classics. The controls were so intuitive that anyone could break high scores on their second go. Some required precision and patience, others needed fast reflexes. All-in-all, it was a package of fast-paced party games, and it was fun. Even so, I was more of a PC gamer, so waving a Wii controller around for more than 15 minutes wasn’t as exhilarating as the target audience would find, and unfortunately I didn’t have my PC over there.
“Wanna make it more interesting?” Di said, with a devilish grin. “We’ll play head-to-head. The loser has to take off a piece of clothing.”
Strip games on the Wii? I don’t know what she was thinking, but the game was on. I figured I had a huge advantage. I had been a competitive gamer for most of my life, and although I hadn’t played much of the Wii, it was so easy to learn that I set a bunch of high scores already. I wouldn’t lose to someone five years younger than me whose gaming experience was limited to waving a Wiimote and poking a DS.
I got fucking destroyed.
Innate gaming talent was no match to a girl who played these games religiously. She ripped through my scores as badly as she thrashed her kid brother. I only managed to beat her (and thus remove her jacket) in the retro games level, while she had me down to my underwear. With my dignity at stake, I picked the most difficult level. We were pretty close until we got to the final game, and I groaned. It was that fucking dance game. The one where you have to imitate the actions on the screen in sync, including slapping your arse with the Wii remote (in my underwear) and dancing like a disco nerd. Which, mind you, I could do as well as the game wanted me to. But I always miss the end where you have to turn and point to the crowd. And I missed it this time. She had the biggest grin on her face as she watched me take off my last piece of clothing. I was glad that I didn’t have a hard-on, though having my ex’s sister giggle at my limp penis wasn’t gratifying either. She then scooped up my clothes and locked them away in her room, with the deal being that I lost them fairly and had to win them back or stay naked for the rest of the day. Though it wasn’t part of the deal, I shrugged and amused her. It was late anyway and were about to sleep. I already had my revenge plan in mind.
The next day, Di came home after doing some grocery shopping to find me sitting on the couch mucking about with the Wii, playing Twilight Princess. She looked at me curiously, but I told her that I was simply taking a break. I immediately challenged her to a rematch. “Same game?” she asked. “No,” I answered. “Wii Sports”. She raised her eyebrow at me, then put away the groceries, took off her shoes and shades while I set the game up and synchronised her controller, expecting another easy win. She offered to let me put on more clothing (I was only wearing a t-shirt, track pants and underwear, while she had a jacket), but I scoffed and played the underdog card. She didn’t know I had been practising all day.
Five games, five items of clothing on her. It went according to plan. I picked the easiest sport first – Golf. She was terrible at the game and didn’t have the patience to putt accurately, so I won the first round without breaking a sweat, earning her jacket. Next, she picked Baseball – my worst, but I had been training using the minigames and had the timings down for good swings. Di lacked the finesse needed to hit consistently and while the game was close, it was another victory for me. Realising she had to show some skin, she took off her jeans. She was wearing a pair of frilly purple knickers, complementing her curvy hips and rump. I picked Bowling as our next challenge. She managed to accumulate a high score with blind luck, as with real-life bowling, but I had worked out the fine wrist movement and positioning to get the right spin on the ball, scoring 290. She doffed her top, revealing a matching purple bra.
Things got heated up with Boxing. We plugged in our nunchuk controllers and did a few stretches. Now in her underwear, she was getting agitated at her losing streak and was determined to punch me (well, my avatar) out. As predicted, she hammered away, knocking my cartoonish face back and forth. She got angry very easily, and this was the result. I defended as well as I could, withstanding the torrent of blows coming at me. Di was working up a sweat while I bided my time. Muhammad Ali would’ve approved of my strategy. Di was busy swinging ferociously, whereas I knew the game didn’t require you to actually replicate each movement precisely in person – the controls weren’t that sensitive. Once she wore herself out, I retaliated with a series of quick jabs and crosses. She couldn’t keep up with the rapid barrage, ending up in an easy knockout. Growing red with frustration, she took off her bra, releasing her D-cup boobs. I felt my crotch stir, but we weren’t done yet. She was serious.
The last game was Tennis, and while I normally sucked at it, I had calculated the events perfectly. I made my choices with this last game in mind. Di, as with boxing, made exaggerated motions, steadying herself and shifting to either side to return each shot while I stood still, letting my avatar do all the running. Apart from being more tired, Di soon found that being well-endowed and braless does not go well with playing tennis and, with her boobs to blame, she lost the matches – and her knickers. She took them off with a huff while I scooped up her clothing and hid them away. Minutes later, after she had cooled down from her one-sided loss, she then realised what I had actually got her into. Embarrassment then overwhelmed her: she was beet red, her hands desperately covering her huge boobs and her crotch but not succeeding in either. Even though she lost fair and square, she was not going to reward me with a full view of her naked body…until she realised that the rider clause in our gaming agreement backfired on her. The previous night, all I had to do was go to sleep naked. Today, it was only 5pm. She had to spend the rest of the evening as she was: cooking, cleaning, doing homework, all completely naked. Even after she showered and dried herself, she wasn’t allowed to put any clothes on. We had an unspoken hands-off agreement, but I sweetly enjoyed my comeback and had a very, very pleasant sleep that night.
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