"Come on James. Let's go play something," my cousin said, grabbing me by the hand and dragging me downstairs. I went with her willingly. Our parents were obnoxiously drunk at that point, and hanging out with them was beginning to feel like babysitting.
It was like this every time our families got together. We'd go over to my aunt and uncle's for a barbecue, game night, whatever, and within a couple hours our parents would be falling over themselves, talking too loudly and laughing incessantly. Jen and I would usually disappear together when they got too out of hand, and our parents seemed grateful for it.
Jen lead me to her room and I collapsed dramatically onto the bed.
"What you wanna play?" she asked, grabbing the controllers off her dresser.
"Mortal Kombat?" I suggested.
"Really?" she asked. "You know I always kick your ass."
"Not this time," I said confidently. "I've been practicing."
"Gonna take a lot more than a little practice to beat me," she said, handing me the controller and taking a seat at the foot of the bed.
"You'll see," I said, scooting down to take a seat next to her.
"Suuuuuuure. Whatever you say." She flashed me a smile and bumped me with her shoulder. I couldn't help but grin back. She had a really cute smile.
Jen picked Sonia (she always picked Sonia), and I chose Takeda.
"Let's do this," I said in a mock tough-guy voice.
The familiar yell of "Fight!" sounded from the TV and the match began. Jen was right of course. She did always kick my ass. When we were younger we'd play Halo with her big sisters, and even though they were older than me I was by far the best of the group. Jen was always more into fighting games than FPSs though, and with her sisters away at college we played Mortal Kombat pretty much exclusively.
I loved fighting games, so I didn't complain. The only downside was Jen was so much better at them than I was.
I really had been practicing though. I'd been working shifts at Dairy Queen after school for the last year to pay for my car, and I'd finally managed to scrounge up enough extra dough to get Mortal Kombat XL a couple weeks back. I'd been practicing with Takeda online since then, and had actually gotten pretty damn good.
"Finish her!" the announcer yelled. Down, Forward, Down, Back, Y: Takeda pulled out his whip and used it to cut off Sonya's arms. He then launched the whip into her mouth, pulled it back out, and in the process pulled her spine out of her face.
It was gross... and awesome.
Jen put the controller in her lap and stared at the screen, mouth agape. I just smirked, waiting for her to say something. Several seconds passed. Finally:
"Bullshit," she said, just staring at the TV. Even though we were technically "adults" now, I still didn't like swearing around family; not even Jen. She seemed to feel the same way around everyone else, but never had any problem swearing around me.
"Told ya," I said, leaning back smugly.
"Again," she demanded, not looking my way. She picked up the controller and started another round.
I beat her two more times.
"Whatever! You're just good with Takeda!" she said, pushing me over playfully.
"Like you're one to talk. I don't see you picking anyone but Sonia." I teased, sitting up with a laugh.
"I play Leatherface sometimes!" she said indignantly.
"You never play Leatherface."
"I so do! Come on. Let's play again."
"I dunno..." I said, sounding disinterested. "It's kind of easy now."
"Oh shut up," she said, pushing me again.
"I mean, I did just win three times in a row," I gloated. "I didn't even lose a round."
"Fine. Let's make it interesting," she said. "Winner gets sixty seconds."
"You serious?" I asked her, excited at the thought.
"Deadly," she said, shooting me her most serious look. "Sixty seconds."
"Alright, if you think you can handle it," I said, sitting back up and grabbing the controller. She played fiercely, determined to win. She did better. I lost the second round. Made up for it in the third.
"Dude!" she yelled, throwing her controller onto the bed. "I was so close!"
"Not close enough. Now, you know what you have to do," I reminded.
"Fine," she said. "God they're loud. Can you get the door?"
"Sure thing," I said, closing the door to the bedroom. Our parents were being noisy, sure, but I knew that was just an excuse. We always closed the door when we played the game.
Jen laid back and spread her arms out to sides of the bed. I pulled out my phone and set a timer for one minute, then set it within reach of her on the nightstand.
I went down to the end of the bed and took a moment to admire her. She looked super cute in a grey shirt and pink pajama pants, and had about an inch of pale white skin showing near her belly button. That'd be my target. I crawled up the bed and sat over her legs.
"Tell me when," I said.
"Alright," she said, nervousness evident in her voice. She hit the timer. "When!"
I lifted her shirt a couple of inches, exposing her belly and drawing from her a nervous squeal. I put my fingers on the soft skin of her ribs, let them move gently over her skin for a second, then began tickling her.
She screamed and wiggled beneath me, grasping the bed sheets tightly. I didn't let up.
I moved from her ribs to her belly, then back to her ribs. I let my fingers explore a bit, tickling her sides and brushing against the bottom of her bra. Her legs kicked beneath me, but I had her pinned down with my ass.
"Oh my god oh my god oh my god!" she managed to scream out between bouts of laughter. She bucked back and forth beneath my touch but held tight to the bedding, never once trying to stop me.
The rules were clear. For sixty seconds I could do whatever I wanted to her. She wasn't allowed to stop me, or even to try to stop me, no matter what. We'd played this game at least once at every get-together for the last four months or so, and not once had either of us broken those rules.
I always went straight for tickling. I knew she expected it, but I couldn't help it. I loved feeling her fight against me and to force shrieks of laughter from her. Maybe it was a fetish of mine? I don't know, but tickling Jen always did something for me.
I looked over at the timer. Fifteen seconds left. I ran the palm of my hand over her smooth, flat belly, then migrated to her legs. I looked her in the eyes as I pulled them apart. She returned my gaze with exaggerated anger, but I could see a smile about to break through.
I placed my fingertips on her inner thighs, then started tickling again. She shrieked out and wiggled side to side, but didn't try to kick me off or anything. I allowed my hands to move up higher and higher, tickling closer and closer to her private area.
The alarm shrieked, stopping my fingers about a half-inch from one of the few places I'd never tickled her. She silenced the alarm.
"Jesus," she panted, her hand on her chest. She sat there for a moment watery-eyed, trying to catch her breath.
"How was that?" I asked, grinning wickedly.
"How do you think?" she asked rhetorically, pulling her shirt down.
"Ready for another go?"
"You know it," she said, grabbing her controller.
So we started another match, only this time I was distracted (and by distracted, I mean aroused). The game always did that to me. Not Mortal Kombat... the other game.
We'd only started playing a couple months before, and it had been her idea: "Alright, we can play Diablo, but only if I get to do whatever I want to you for sixty seconds. And you can't stop me for the full minute, no matter what," she'd said at the time. I wanted to play Diablo 3, so I agreed. I don't know where she got the idea, but it was super fun. We'd been finding excuses to play ever since.
My cousin was really cute. Hot too, of course, but cute was more fitting. I'd always known she was attractive, but when we were younger it wasn't really something I paid much attention to. I'd started noticing more as we'd gotten older, but damn if the game hadn't changed the way I thought of her completely. I loved touching her. I loved being touched by her. I even loved get-togethers with our alcoholic families, since they meant I got to spend more time with her. Whenever we were together it was only a matter of time before one of us suggested the game.
"Well, you know what that means!" she said after the match, rising to her knees and bouncing excitedly on the bed. All I'd been thinking about during the match was our other game, and the memory of Jen squirming beneath me. She'd kicked my ass in no time.
"Yea, yea..." I said, laying back. "Sixty seconds."
I started the timer and Jen got to work. I wasn't nearly as ticklish as she was, which meant she usually had to get more creative with her torture. She started by taking off my socks and tickling my feet. When she didn't get the reaction she'd hoped for, she grabbed her glass of ice water off the dresser.
I sighed. Not this again. She flashed me an evil grin, then grabbed the bottom of my shirt and and lifted it up to my neck. She then proceeded to pour ice cold water on my nipples (she was always doing shit to my nipples), starting with the left, then moving to the right. It was a lot more effective than tickling. I grasped onto the sheets, gritted my teeth and waited for it to be over. As the time ran down she started pouring the water on my belly button. It was still cold, but at least my stomach was a lot less sensitive.
The alarm went off. Jen jumped with shock and accidentally spilled the water all over my lap.
"I'm sorry!" she said, jumping up from the bed. I turned the alarm off.
"Great. It looks like I pissed myself," I said, admiring the damage.
"Let me get you a towel," she laughed, heading for the door.
"Hold up," I said, stopping her. "I don't think that's quite gonna cut it. You got anything I can wear?"
"Hmmm, let me check." She hopped out of the room and came back a minute later with a towel and a pair of pajama pants. "Got these from the laundry room. They're my dads."
I eyed the pants skeptically.
"They're clean." She said, rolling her eyes.
"They'll do," I agreed, grabbing the pants. I used the towel to dry off my chest, then handed it to Jen. "You might want to get the bed." The sheets had a big wet spot where I'd been sitting.
"Ugh... you really managed to make a mess," she laughed, drying off the bed.
"Yep," I said, laughing as well. "All me."
