Spin the bottle got me my first kiss...
It was the best summer of my life....I was 12-years-old and just starting to learn about girls. Living in a small town in Alaska called Sitka, we all wore so much clothing during the winter that it was hard to tell who was a girl or who was a boy?, until all of the parkas came off.
One delightful spring day, my dad said to me the magic words all pre-pubescent boys want to hear: "Roger, you're going to have to stay the night over at the Mercers this weekend, your mom and I are going out of town."
I was over the moon! The Mercers have the most beautiful daughter in the world named "Bella." She has been the star of my fantasies for a while now. My friend Carl said that I would just hide in the library all weekend because I was too scared to talk to her, but I was determined to not only talk to her, but kiss her!
So I packed my bag and headed over next door. Bella and I have known each other since wearing diapers, but we really do not have a lot to say to each other most of the time.
So when she all of sudden started filling out her shirts more I couldn't stop staring at her! That night, after dinner and Bella's parents went to bed, I was setting up my bed on the couch in the TV room.
The next thing I know, Bella is looking at me and asks "Wanna play spin the bottle?" She held a cola bottle in her hand and looked at me expectantly. Long story short, she spun the bottle, it landed on me and then she kissed me!
She then laughed, and said: "I just wanted to know what all the fuss was about." Then she left to go back up to her room. I would like to say that I said something clever and witty, but I just stared at her like a deer in the headlights.
Years later, we ran into each other again at college. She was still beautiful, but no longer intimidating to me. We joked about that night and then went out for a beer with some friends.
I will never forget that feeling of innocence of that summer though!
Photo: Www.CourtneyCarmody.com/
by Ryea
(United States, Texas, Dallas )
by Kay
(California)
A memorable Truth or Dare Story of Four Friends
Every year when I was in junior high, my choir class was invited to compete in Los Angeles at a choral competition for junior high and high school students. It would last all weekend. We would get permission to leave Friday morning, which made it extra fun as we got to skip our classes that day!
Friday would be spent traveling by bus down to LA, as the town I grew up in was about three hours' drive north. We would check into the hotel Friday afternoon, compete on Saturday, and get to spend Saturday night at either Disneyland or Knott's Berry Farm, before driving back home Sunday after breakfast.
The choice of theme park depended on where the competition was held and if it was closer to the Anaheim area or Buena Park area. My ninth grade year, we had a hotel two blocks from Disneyland, which meant we saw the fireworks show every night because the hotel had a viewing deck on its roof for just that.
We slept okay Friday night, except for competition nerves. Saturday was harder, between scoring high marks at the competition, the fun at Disneyland and all the cotton candy my roommates and I had eaten, we could not get to sleep!
So, Mara suggested that the four of us play Truth or Dare. Ivy and I had never played so we were a little reluctant to find out what it entailed besides the obvious, but Krysta made Mara promise not to do anything too outlandish for dares, so we agreed.
Ivy and I stuck to choosing truth, which just meant we had to describe fantasies about our crushes and other embarrassing answers. Krysta and Mara did a combination of both truth and dare. Krysta was dared to call our choir teacher's room and hang up when she answered something that would never work in today's world of caller ID!
She panicked for a minute when it was over, thinking that Mrs. More had heard us giggling in the background. Mara laughed the hardest at her so when she chose dare for her next turn, Krysta told her to go dance naked in front of our hotel window.
Granted, it was almost two a.m., but we were only on the second floor and, being Los Angeles, people were still out and about. Mara did one better. She mooned the window, pressing her butt against the glass for good measure, and then squealed about how cold the glass was. We had to shush her when we thought we heard someone outside our door, but in the end, we were never caught.
We played Truth or Dare a few other times, usually at birthday slumber parties, but none were as fun as that night at the Anaheim hotel.
by Mary
(San Jose, CA)
by Diana
(Kalispell, MT )
My friends and I were pretty wild when we were younger. In truth, I don't remember a time where we weren't breaking rules or doing things we knew we weren't supposed to. I remember playing Truth or Dare from the time I was nine or ten years old.
We were sixth-graders who used to ride our bikes through a farmer's field and meet in this crawl-space to play strip poker. We used to drink from older sibling's liquor bottles and sneak out at night just to see if we would get caught.
The things we did were always in fun and never to hurt anybody. A lot of our stories had sexual undertones before we ever knew what sex was. The strip poker is just one example. We would dare each other to make out with one another.
If only females were present, we would often strip down and touch each other. Does every kid learn about sex this way or were we just promiscuous? We lived in a small town and many of us later were promiscuous, pregnant too young, high school dropouts, druggies, gang members... before all the corruption we were just curious kids looking for a thrill.
We were at an age where girls started to become aware of their bodies and we all wanted to compare breasts and complain how chubby we were. But no matter how self conscious we were, we all loved to get naked. Some of my best memories of Truth or Dare were of streaking through our neighborhood.
It started by just removing our clothes in the garage we used to host our sleepovers and then opening the garage door just a peek. Or running around in our swimsuits when our moms told us we were getting too old to do such a thing.
Rebel girls never listen and we pushed the envelope further, sometimes turning mean and locking one another out of the house naked or making a dare to be performed later, in more embarrassing circumstances.
I hated Truth more than I hated Dare because I have always known I am bisexual and didn't want to admit to the other girls how I felt about girls… Years later, playing Truth or Dare with my co-workers one slow Sunday afternoon at the strip club I work at, I was finally able to admit my attraction to a girl and it felt good.
by Jo
(Philadelphia, PA, USA )
Dare for Guys: Wear a Stuffed Bra
My freshman year of college was full of surprises. Coming from a very small religious all-girls high school, even being around the massive amounts of boys on my college campus was something to get used to. Though I lived on the all-girls floor of my dorm, boys were still welcome to wander upstairs and oftentimes came to visit their friends on the floor.
After a particularly tough round of exams, my friends and I decided to play truth or dare to blow off some steam. Despite telling him it was a girl's night, my one male coworker decided to crash the party and join our game.
We went through the tired, old truth questions like:
"Where was your first kiss?"
and
"What color is your underwear?"
But the game lacked some enthusiasm and originality. When it was the only boy in the group's turn, my roommate thought of the most exciting dare of the night.
She dared him to wear one of our bras stuffed with tissues and parade around the dorms like nothing was going on! Believe it or not, this kid actually went along with our dare. I'm not sure if his pride was wounded more by going through with it or the thought of forfeiting to us girls.
My well-endowed roommate fitted our friend with one of her bras. First, we teased him, "Is this the closest you've ever been to a girl's bra?" to which he replied something disgusting and unremarkable. Then, we stuffed the bra with tissues.
When those failed to fill up his severely lacking cups, we proceeded to push stuffed animals under his shirt. The product was a pair of lumpy, misshapen breasts on a lanky teenage boy. We forced the kid to walk down to the front door of the dorm and tell the front desk that something was wrong with how the dorms were decorated that the walls to the girls' floor should be pink.
Thankfully the desk worker didn't laugh at him too hard.
All of us girls laughed ourselves silly at the sight!
by Steve
(USA)
I went to a Halloween party one year dressed as Freddy Kruger. I got there early and was drinking heavily mixing different liquors and beer.
This girl that I liked from school showed up dressed as a french maid. She was very hot and looked so sexy in that outfit.
I had taken off my rubber mask because it was too hot and hard to drink through even with a straw. She recognized me and commented on my hat, glove and sweater.
At first, she talked to me quite a bit but her friends tried to keep her away from me. They were waiting on some older guys.
I was getting very drunk and trying to have a good time but I was getting annoyed at her friends and she was getting annoyed with me being so drunk.
I kept calling her Fifi and started flipping up her short dress exposing those ruffled panties which pissed her and her friends off.
After a couple of times she slapped me!
The girl having the party cooled things off so that they wouldn't leave. She told me to stay away from her or I would have to leave.
So in typical drunk fashion, I was later told, I kept my distance but made loud remarks about her being a tease and continued to drink.
I was sulky and eventually passed out. The guys the girls were waiting on never showed up so the girls were bored and decided it was time for a little Halloween trick on guess who.
You know what they say about a woman scorned (especially if she has a group of snobby busybodies encouraging her)...
I came to abruptly with a pounding headache and that feeling that something was terribly wrong. I was staring at the ceiling laid back in a recliner.
I tried to focus my eyes as I raised my head, looked down and realized I was wearing the french maid dress!
I bolted upright in the chair and looked around.
I was alone in the living room and thankful for that. I was barefooted and saw that my toenails had been painted pink as well as my fingernails.
I looked under the dress and found that I had on my own underwear but when I stood up the short dress hardly covered them. I searched the room for my clothes but they weren't there.
I looked in a mirror near the hall and saw that I had make up on and that head piece thing pinned in my hair.
I found some polaroid instants on the coffee table.
One was of the girls undressing me, another of them putting the dress on me (the girl I liked now wearing my loose fitting pants, sweater Freddy glove and hat), more of them putting make up on and painting my nails.
There were some of them posing with me and one with a sign on my chest saying Fifi the French Maid. I was later told that several other guests got their picture made with me.
By now the girl who lived there and a friend who had stayed over had heard me and came out. I tried to hide behind the chair but they told me not to bother they'd seen me.
The whole party had seen me. It was so embarrassing.
They informed me that the girl had left wearing my clothes and they felt kind of bad for me so they let me stay. They agreed I had been a real jerk but figured I had been punished enough.
They teased me about cleaning up the house and making them breakfast since I was a maid. They did loan me some sweatpants and a t shirt to wear home. Although the pants were yellow and the shirt had some sparkly picture on it.
The girl I had embarrassed and pissed off got her sweet revenge and did forgive me but I can't forget that humiliation.
For weeks and months pictures kept turning up and people teased me and called me Fifi. Even now(once in a great while) someone reminds me of it.
I never drank like that again.