Great Smokey Mountains and Pizza 1971
But first some more useless facts explaining our love for pizza.
These stories make it sound as if everyday was sex and games. Far from it. With three kids, working from ten to twelve hour days, school and church events, and life, our games were spread out randomly over the next sixty years. Most of the time we were just regular people doing regular things. We drank in moderation, didn't smoke, or swear. Our family and most friends had no idea we were living two lives.
Sure we played a thousand pizza flashing games in a thousand places over what seems like a thousand years. Loving to share our games over an open campfire or across a smoky table at a bar, I began scribbling notes about most games involving Dollie and her tits. This was way before computers so my notes were put on a yellow colored paper notepad, on napkins, or backs of bits of useless fliers and whatever was handy.
History as we know it today wouldn't be accurate in books and movies if those before us hadn't kept notes. Mine weren't chiseled in stone or left hidden in caves scribbled on animal skins. Even members of the Donner party kept diaries of members eating other members. Well, maybe their eating habits weren't the same. But the notes all served a purpose and we also began our journeys in central Illinois.
As more games were played, I began converting the notes to short stories so I'd have the facts together. Realizing most games, pizza flashing or at other places, were similar and became boring to write about and share, I culled the less interesting and boring stories. Eventually I narrowed down my stories even more, to the more unusual and surprising events. This is why the dates vary and I jump around from place to place.
After moving to Florida the notes and most stories ended up in the back of Dollie's walk in closet. Thanks to her hoarding habit, it was no longer walk in-able and those notes were forgotten. After I got my first used computer and internet, I joined a few motorcycle forums. It was then I began sharing our stories with strangers on the web. Many stories at that time were about small bike events, then Daytona Bike Week and others.
As we got older and stayed home more, I joined a few porn sites and decided to share, as others were sharing stories. We were now among sex starved members wanting kinky details about adult games and cock sizes, rather than how big my Honda was. So here I am rewriting and sharing our secrets with more strangers.
Once more I repeat, you have to dress to play... to play!
Many of us have the habit of calling the areola and nipple simply the nipple. We both hated Dollie's small pale areolas and quarter inch long nipples but there was an advantage. She could wear tops even lower to just cover those quarter sized areolas and nipples. Dollie loved wearing thin tank tops with long spaghetti straps over her shoulders. Once she liked how they barely covered her nipples, she'd tie the straps in a knot so she only had to slip the top on and it was pre-adjusted.
All was fine with Dollie's spaghetti strapped tops until her titties grew and gravity took over after three kids. I helped her readjust those skinny straps so, again, her nipples were very close to the top edge. I wasn't happy, or I was just ornery. One day when she was gone I untied the knots and made the straps longer. I didn't bother to measure or calculate how much boob was covered. I just did it without ever saying anything to Dollie.
