Date: Tue, 26 Mar 2024 18:23:44 +0100 (CET)
From: Boris Chen <borischenaz@mailfence.com>
Subject: Captured chapter 26

Chapter 26. Bringing an abandoned WW2 airfield back to life.

Dan stayed at my apartment a lot longer than I expected. At some point we
sort of fell back into our old college roommate routine again. I clearly
told him he was welcome to stay at long as he wished, mi casa es su casa,
and I meant it literally. Dan actually got emotional and put his hand over
his eyes, and then he leaned in and kissed me. It's nice to be reminded
that he really does have a soft inner core that gets emotional easily when
it comes from his closest friends.

The next day I had a long conversation with someone at the INR about their
box mounted outside my north facing window and plugged into an outlet in my
apartment. Our conversation contained top secret military information (we
used encoded mode on the sat-phone), I spoke with the Deputy Chief of
Operations for the INR (a group within the State Department that functions
similar to the NSA and CIA combined). They told me the box on my window was
primarily communicating with a buoy in the narrowest segment of the Strait
of Gibraltar. It sat on the bottom collecting data on passing ships and
submarines and when the memory was full it came to the surface and
transmitted it's data then erased itself and sank back to the bottom again
and started collecting more data. They tried to use a satellite to receive
the data but found it wouldn't work reliably for some reason he couldn't
explain. So the box on my window was used as the receiver instead of the
TRDS satellites. This was why they had to monitor the full radio spectrum
to look for a quiet frequency to use to transmit the buoy data to my window
box. Over a period of hours my box then re-transmitted the buoy data back
to INR via satellite.  He also said they were willing to pay more to keep
the current equipment, they would pay my full rent and utility costs to
maintain the box exactly where it is right now, they would continue to fund
the tiny Tangier embassy office and my current pay if I agreed to continue
to rent that apartment and run that office. I immediately accepted the
offer.

While we were outside walking I sort of explained to Dan that I was stuck
right where I was for the foreseeable future. We had that conversation that
evening and he also had some news for me.  Before he started with his news
I had a question in mind about my conversation with State earlier in the
day: How many observation buoys does the US operate around the world? I
know they are different from sonar buoys the navy uses, these listen,
store, and transmit. Plus this series is the only one that hovers in one
area and only comes up for air about once every three weeks then sinks back
to the same spot on the bottom where it has some sort of anchor base. They
told me it was a challenge to keep it in the same general area of the
Strait so they had to always know details about currents in the waterway. I
think he said when it sinks to the bottom it is not in the deepest part of
the strait but closer to the Moroccan side.  ---- While we were cooking
dinner Dan told me his application for dual citizenship in Morocco was
already approved, he was going to receive an updated US passport from
Washington that listed both countries. He also said he submitted an offer
(with a deposit) for the 30 acre airport property we toured and he also
asked an RV dealer to locate a particular size class-A motorhome for
him. He also paid for new electrical service to be reinstalled on the
airport property once/if the ownership was transferred. The meter box would
be mounted on a utility pole near the ATC building where he intended to
park a motorhome.  He said if everything came together he was going to
purchase the old military airbase and park the used motorhome on the
property near the old control tower building. He was going to hire a septic
system guy to resurrect the one buried behind that building, but may need a
new leach field. He is going to buy an above ground water storage tank and
have it filled, then the power will be run and he'll park the motorhome on
the site and live in it. He said we could split the cost to re-pave the
runway and park my jet inside his hangar rent free but there is no
electricity in the hangar.  Dan said he won't know if any of this stuff
will actually happen for a couple more weeks, but so far everything looks
good, the realtor said the seller will likely accept his offer because the
property has been on the market for over six years and his was the first
offer they received.  Dan seemed very excited and distracted. After his
updates I got on my computer and emailed a paving contractor to get a price
on re-paving the runway on Dan's airport. That will be the equivalent of
re-paving a ten-foot wide driveway, 2.6 miles long! It also means that I
would have to never land or take off with a full load of fuel on the
Citation because 4800 feet would be too short depending on the surface
winds. If you take off with no wind and a full load of fuel it would be
about 800 feet short according to Cessna.  The problem is when you get to
the 4000ft mark if your ground speed is only 91mph the end of the runway is
very visible just ahead it takes over 500 feet to stop a jet moving that
fast, which would put the Citation off the end of the runway with
damage. With a nice 10mph headwind and a half load of fuel the Citation can
take off in 2800 feet, but landing is another story.  Dan said he might
open the runway up to crop dusters, aviation hobbyists who build their own
aircraft, skydiving clubs, and maybe even a civilian club like the groups
who restore old military aircraft but need an airport and a place to park
an old bomber. Dan seemed to think there is a huge untapped retail market
around Tangier for aviation. Dan also mentioned possibly purchasing the
parcel of land beside the airstrip to the east if they need to someday
extend the runway. And he said Morocco does not regulate the construction
of private airports so Tetouan cannot stop him, but they are far enough
away there should be no airspace conflicts especially considering how many
small aircraft are operating in the area right now. Dan said he checked
with a GPS, its 14.3 miles, or 23km from his airport to the west end of
Tetouan's runway.  I asked him if he knew how many crop dusters currently
operated in Morocco and he said it was over 300. His answer surprised me, I
would have guessed it was around 15, but he said cotton was a huge crop in
Morocco and those fields had to be sprayed with a mixture of salt water and
herbicide six weeks before harvest time. The spray made the cotton plants
die and get stiff so they didn't fall over when the picker harvested the
field. He said many crop dusters land their planes on rural roads and do
repairs in the weeds along the side of the road and badly need maintenance
areas and professional service, which could happen at his airport if he can
find someone willing to start a business and erect a new repair shop. He
quoted the movie Field of Dreams, `If you build it they will come.'  He
also said he'll need an aviation fuel supplier, which was another business
opportunity. In my mind I saw Dan flying home, packing his crap, and
selling his car and most of his belongings and moving to Morocco this year.
I sent an email explaining his plans to Jen before I went to bed. Dan was
so excited at bed time he fell asleep on the sofa, I tossed a thin blanket
over him and slept on my bed.  ---- The next morning he seemed very excited
while I cooked us breakfast rather early. He wanted to tell me about his
experience at Four Winds Airport in Madrid.  "Classes were held at a very
old airfield on the southwest side of Madrid. It was the home base of a
seaplane service in the 1930s, they flew from Madrid to Havana Cuba. It was
a very luxurious service to compete with the German airships back then, but
today the airport does a lot of schooling, they even have a helicopter
school. You can still see how it used to be a huge grass field back before
runways were invented." Dan paused and then told me that airplanes and
airports existed long before asphalt roads.  "Classes were never more than
three students and one teacher. Each class was 55 minutes. The other two
students in my group were young, one of them looked like he was just 19
years old, he spoke fluent Spanish, and I think he was a local boy. I think
you might have found him interesting."  "Why's that?" I asked.  "He was
very pretty, he had thick coal-black hair parted down the center that
rested on his shoulders like shiny black feathers and it looked like it
would be dreamy to run your fingers into. He looked half Chinese and half
Latino, he wasn't Pinoy but more like Asian with a nice sun tan. He came to
class very well dressed in black slacks and a solid white shirt unbuttoned
down the middle of his chest to show off his broad hairless upper chest and
if the lighting was directly above him it shone down his shirt and I could
clearly see he had very wide flat nipples and I immediately thought of
you."  "Huh, that almost sounds familiar, I met a guy just like that a
party near Tetouan. He was about six foot tall, slender, curvy, elegant,
half Asian, half Hispanic, long flowing black hair."  Daniel added, "Yep,
sounds exactly like my classmate."  "The guy I met had a substantial boner
too. What was his name, you remember?" I asked.  "Ahh I knew you'd ask I'll
have to try to remember but we rarely spoke, but I could tell his first
language was Spanish. His Spanish and my Mexican didn't always mesh."  We
were staring into each other's eyes and I remembered the name of the guy
from the Twink party, and at the same instant we both said "Luis!" And I
showed Daniel a photo of the guy from the party on my cell screen and he
chuckled and said, "Yah, that's him! I'm sure of it."  "Huh, small world."
I thought to myself I was now one step closer to meeting the mystery twink,
when I met him he was here visiting from Spain.  Daniel went on to say the
guy was rather quiet but he was strikingly elegant and beautiful, I asked
if he was a Femboy." Dan said he needed clarification on the meaning of
Femboy. "I suspect there's more to it these days."  "A Femboy is a young
man who sometimes feels less masculine than his masculine ideal. There are
a wide range of Femboys, some like to wear women's clothing, some like to
wear make-up, some have a body that can pass for curvy and lady-like. On
the outside a Femboy may be a fantastic soccer player, a math genius, a
ballet dancer, or a firefighter. But on the inside his desires lean a bit
toward the female stereotype. I think in most of them you'll find a belief
that their body (in some places) looks rather feminine to them. Femboy does
not mean: gay, drag queen, transgender, weak, fashionista, or crazy." I
hoped I said that correctly, but I am not an expert on Femboys, but I do
like looking at them because their bodies tend to be rounded, hairless
(aka: smooth), and elegant.  Then I added, "Femboys can be 100%
heterosexual, and masculine. But every once in a while they may like to
secretly dress in panties and maybe wear some eye and lip makeup. Many guys
who would describe themselves as a Femboy probably also have other
specialty terms to describe themselves, but those may be very secret."
Then we both stared at each other again as if we were thinking what to say
next, and at the same instant we both said "That's him!"  We were silent
briefly then I asked Dan if by chance he had a class roster. He stared in
my eyes briefly then got out his cell and touched a few spots, swiped five
times and handed me his phone. In the text app it showed Luis Rodriguez and
showed his cell number. I got a lump in my throat and couldn't swallow but
I asked him to send me that number, and I thanked him for not deleting it
earlier. I recognized the number as being the same area code as Madrid. In
fact it was the same prefix that Jen had on her cell. Amazing!  I almost
got hard thinking about Luis at the twink party, he had a rather long dick
and a foreskin too. His body above the pubes looked like a flat chested
girl. Very rounded and smooth, brown skin with elegant black hair. At a
glance he sort of looked like a tall 14 year old girl with no breast
growth, but he did have large reddish-brown areolas. And the femboy at the
twink party had big balls and his scrotum was rather dark but the head of
his dick was the same red color as his lips. At the party I had a daydream
about pushing my tongue into his belly button after rubbing my face on his
flesh for half an hour. His flesh looked as tasty and sweet as a Sugar
Daddy bar.  Dan could tell I was distracted and I think I had a small wet
spot on my shorts because I was leaking thinking about Luis. I thought WTF,
so I texted (in Spanish) the number Dan gave me: "Luis, remember me? We met
at the Twink Party, I stopped you around the time we started to leave and
we spoke near the bar and hot tub. My name is Alex, I'm from Texas and I
speak Spanish too. My best friend was in the same pilot class at Four Winds
as you and he gave me your number. I have never forgotten you since that
party. How did flight school go? Alex de Tangier."  "Luis, ¿te
acuerdas de mí? Nos conocimos en la Twink Party, te paré en
el momento en que empezamos a irnos y hablamos cerca del bar y el
Jacuzzi. Mi nombre es Alex, soy de Texas y también hablo
español. Mi mejor amigo estaba en la misma clase de piloto en Four
Winds que tú y me dio tu número. Nunca te he olvidado desde
esa fiesta. ¿Cómo fue la escuela de vuelo?  Alejandro."

About ten minutes later my cell buzzed and I actually got a reply.  "Ahley,
I remember you very well. You were the American twink at the party and you
two were the first ones to strip and I carefully watched your wonderful
show on the pool steps. I still think of that when I wank by myself! Yes, I
got my Recreational License but now I cannot afford to rent an airplane. I
think your friend was the first one in our group to test and pass. Our SAA
examiner was a big A-hole, but I also passed. 92% correct on the written
and 96% on the flight test. You still live in Tangier? I rent an apartment
with some guy I hate in Madrid and I'm working at a factory making car
pieces, I hate it but the pay is decent. Write back. Luis."

I handed the cell to Dan to read. He said, "Wow, I was sort of expecting
him to reply with a polite `fuck off' message. You must have made a good
impression at that party, when was that?" he asked.  "It was in Cabo Negro
last summer. It was private by invite only, and they STD tested everyone at
the door." I almost told him if he had gone instead of Patrik he would have
displayed the biggest best boner in the entire party.  Dan was quiet for a
while then asked if I was going to try to invite him over and I replied
with "Hell Yes!" If only he had Dan's dick then he would be a God, but I
always prefer cut dicks because dick tastes better without the
foreskin. It's what I grew up with, I didn't get to choose.  Dan chuckled
and scolded me, "You know Your Majesty there's a new thing called Soap and
Water. Maybe you should try it sometime just like all the other boys on the
planet have known for hundreds of years." Dan reached down his shorts and
straightened his slowly growing limp dick, which caught my eye since we
were still seated on the sofa, lit by candles and some light coming in from
outside even though it was dark outside now. I think he was actually
getting jealous of Luis and his perfect flowing long black hair.  Dan stood
up and pushed his shorts down to his knees and sat back down and started
stroking his half-hard rod. I of course watched closely. Then I noticed his
eyes were on the side of my face and I was instantly embarrassed and felt
my face turn red, so I sort of fell sideways to land my head on his tummy,
but he managed to pull his shirt up so we both enjoyed flesh on flesh. I
turned my head to French kiss his belly button then his dick was fully hard
and slipped into my mouth and I closed my eyes and relaxed my body and
slowly his dick moved deeper and deeper into my mouth until my lips hit
razor stubble around the base of his dick. He was all the way inside my
mouth, which I can only do slowly and with concentration. Otherwise he
would hit my gag spot and that ruins the mood and everyone loses their
erection when one person on the sofa gags loudly.  Back in high school when
I learned to relax and take his dick fully inside my mouth we had several
failed attempts and I even puked a few times trying to learn how to
deep-throat his boner without gagging.  ---- Within the next month both our
lives changed a lot. I learned I was stuck right where I was for the
foreseeable future, which was perfectly fine with me. I really liked what I
did, I really liked my simple life with an occasional FCA mission to run in
Morocco and Algeria. Those reward checks were sometimes more than I'd earn
in a year of working for State and they were tax free!  I was also advised
by State there have been no more dead (murdered) hikers found along The
Way, that information confirmed we got the right guys. Both of them died in
a local hospital of pneumonia 52 hours after their pizza and beer
party. They still get reports of people missing during the hike but that
has always been the case since it first started, in fact people
disappearing is a worldwide problem that has a rather high incidence. Most
experts think 90% of the missing simply hiding from those that reported
them missing.

Dan's ten day trip to help me steal an airplane turned into two weeks then
he flew back to Austin Texas and started selling or throwing away nearly
everything he owned. He put a For Sale sign on the windshield of his car
when his apartment was empty and he was nearly ready to turn in the
keys. He said he reduced his belongings to what would fit in two standard
college dorm trunks. When he flew back to Texas he had four months left on
his apartment lease, but it was paid in advance. He ordered the utilities
shut off and never told the owner he was leaving.  While Dan was packing
his shit I flew up to visit Jen one weekend, I got the last Madrid flight
out of Tangier International (not its actual name) so I would arrive there
around dinner time and I had a little daylight left during the taxi ride to
her place. She introduced me to the landlord, the elderly couple on the
ground floor. We shook hands, they acted like her guardians making sure any
man she brought upstairs wasn't some kind of masher. They said they
remembered me from the weekend she moved into their upstairs apartment.
When we sat down to eat a late dinner we mostly talked about what we both
called the Danville Airport. Full disclosure: Jen is fully aware I blow Dan
occasionally, and it started back in high school. She also promised there
has never been any hanky-panky between them and she is fine with my
relationship with Dan as long as it stays as it is now. I assured her Dan
and me were not interested in any other relationship, Dan would only do
that with a woman. When I tell her that I don't think she understands why
or believes me totally. And I didn't want to explain why I liked his body
so much because I didn't want to discuss details about his dick. I've told
her many times I liked sucking dick and nipples on guys and that was all. I
had no desire to get married to a guy.  ---- Friday night she cooked dinner
for us, since I am usually in some form of pork withdrawal she cooked pork
brats on buns like mega hot dogs, along with French fries and homemade
coleslaw. Her coleslaw was sort of like the sauce from a macaroni salad
over shredded lettuce and cabbage mix, with strips of carrots, some pickle
relish, and finely diced red peppers and black olive bits. It was great and
I got stuffed on two Chicago style brats. So I guess in the morning we'll
have brats again! During our conversation she reminded me we always needed
to keep the noise down so we didn't disturb the old folks downstairs.  We
opened a 12 pack of Belgian beer that evening and drank eight of them and
went to bed in her room and slept all night except to use the bathroom.
---- We got out of bed at 6am, she had to go to work for a few hours so I
went back to bed.  Jen came home at 10:45am and we walked to a local diner
for the brunch menu. That afternoon we both had brats again for lunch at
3pm. Jen was in a funny mood after coming back from work. She told me she
got rid of all the old ladies who were abusing customers and their sales
have turned the corner and started to rebound, they saw nice gains in South
America, especially in Colombia and Argentina. Spain also had a sales
increase of 7% in the quarter that just ended. South America was up 6%
overall. She took credit for an improved customer service and sales team,
and improved language in their online training videos, which she had
re-shot with a better script. Her office also handles customer service
calls in Portuguese during certain hours.  At the very beginning of the
chart she showed me their overall sales were going down 1-4% every quarter
for the previous three years but the old manager was unable to find the
cause and swore it was the economy. Jen proved the former manager was
dishonest, too bad she had to retire too young to collect full benefits.
We spent the entire day talking about her job at her employer. She even
offered to take me on a tour of their office, which was closed today but
she has a key. I declined for this visit, our time was short. She seemed
very pleased with her work and seemed very happy overall. While she was
going on about work I noticed she still had the litter box for a cat but no
cat, maybe it was a memorial? And she also told me the landlord did not
allow pets, maybe a fish tank or a parakeet but no four-legged
critters. She said they've had damage from cats in the past (spraying
scented piss on the floor). I asked why she had the litter box and she said
"Old habit, there was an uncomfortable empty spot on the floor without it."
We ate a late dinner, she cooked again. We had ham steaks, veggies, boiled
yellow potatoes, and a salad. It was served with wine and water. She also
showed me an unopened 16 ounce glass bottle of Seven-Up made in Spain with
cane sugar and no HFCS, so we split it at dinner too. It tasted wonderful
with the dinner.  The wine was a Spanish Merlot she found stocked in local
stores, she said it was similar in quality and flavor to Two Buck Chuck
made by Bronco Wines in the Central Valley. She called the local Madrid
wine Four Franc Franco, which sounded funnier the way she said it with an
accent. Actually, Jen had developed a rather decent Madrid accent; I was
impressed, she was proud.  And she boasted she was invited to Paris to the
main office of her employer, her visit was to be a reward for solving the
riddle of sagging sales and customer service for the Spanish speaking
world. The family who owned the company were very pleased, but she declined
the invite. I think they sent her a cash bonus but she hasn't confessed how
much she received. I bet it wasn't small, probably six figures, and
literally in cash too. Jen said the biggest things she put a stop to were
lying and disrespect.  We talked about food and work for almost an hour
after dinner before we cleared the table I told Jen an old faded memory
from when I was a kid and before my sister left for college, when I was in
5th grade. One time we drove in Mom's car to McDonald's and Burger King and
stopped at the Circle K and got a blended six pack of Coke and Pepsi. We
got a Big Mac and a Whopper and cut both in half, then poured unmarked
glasses of Coke and Pepsi and compared all four. In the end we both liked
Pepsi and the Whopper by far over the other. She said she always wanted to
do that but never did. I said Coke always tasted too sugary and heavy to
me. We both agreed when they stopped using lard to cook French fries the
quality went way down. I told her I can make much better fries at home than
I can get at any burger joint now.  After our extended dining table
discussion we played briefly, I chased her around the table and we crashed
into the kitchen counter but didn't drop any plates. We stood in front of
the sink and made out for a few minutes, Jen really likes doing that: the
spontaneous long romantic kiss. I'm pretty good at telling her I love her
in my kiss.  ---- After dinner we sat facing each other at opposite ends of
her sofa and spent the evening talking and drinking wine by candle light,
both of us got drunk but we had a great evening with music playing. At 10pm
she turned on some romantic classical Spanish guitar music and we slow
danced together in her tiny living room, I could tell her juices were
flowing as she got more and more romantic and touched me more and
more. After a while I took my shirt off and she had me join her on the
hardwood floor after she spread out a large beach towel and she baby oiled
me and massaged my entire body, gradually removing my clothes (and hers) as
she went. It was very nice to see and feel her breasts again. I got hard
early and stayed hard while she oiled me from neck to ankles with her tits
on display the entire time.  That was the first time she oiled my butt
crack and finger massaged my bunghole exactly like a gay man would have, so
she's been doing some reading. This was totally new for her. It was the
first time in my life someone baby oil massaged the inside of my bunghole,
so she was essentially finger fucking me. That also meant she had no fake
nails and she had at least one nail cut short.  Then she sat on my hips so
my erection was firmly pressed against her magic spot for over an hour. I
was god awful horny and needed to come but she wouldn't let me touch myself
(or her) while she massaged my upper body and upper arms. I asked nicely if
I could nurse on her nipples but she whispered `not yet.'  I tried to
finger her belly button but that got blocked too and all the while the
tension in my dick grew worse. Next, she guided me to shower to remove the
oil and then we went to bed.  In bed she got me on my back in the center of
the mattress, she sat on top of me again with my aching erection aligned
with the gap between her flaps. She rode on top of me briefly then rose up
and reached down and aimed my now aching erection inside her vagina. I
swear if she moved a tiny bit my body would start having an orgasm, I
warned her I was that close every moment.  Jen liked to do this: have my
erection in her vagina, but we didn't move. She felt our souls were joined
during intercourse and it meant a lot to her, like we were exchanging love
vibes or some other new age power sharing thing she read about in O
Magazine. I think Jen believed that men always had more energy than women
so she found ways to re-charge herself off me while my dick was inside her.
We French kissed for several minutes then she moved our bodies around so I
was on top but my erection never slipped out of her vagina. She allowed me
to suckle on her fully erect nipples (they stuck out like two mountain
peaks). I moaned and tried to hump her but she told me to stop. I slid my
mouth side to side so my lips and tongue crossed her nips over and over
which made her moan. She could barely talk because of the waves of
pleasure, all I could do was moan with her. I used my lips to latch on to
her teats and leaned my head back which stretched her nipples and breasts
out. When I pulled too hard she grabbed my skull and pulled me back. Then
she asked to me to come on her tummy so I carefully pulled out and moved so
my erection rested on her tummy and started sliding the head of my dick
around in her belly button and in just a few seconds it started and I had a
painfully strong orgasm and completely filled her belly button with semen,
it was also smeared all over her stomach (and mine) and dribbled down her
sides. I made so much boy milk that time I instantly felt thirsty.  Then I
relaxed on top of her and pressed my stomach against hers with my erection
sandwiched between us, it turned into a large gooey mess and we both got
the giggles. Her mouth, like mine smelled and tasted like Merlot wine. I
kissed her lips very gently and touched our noses and told her I loved her,
she whispered back she loved me too, but she was afraid we might be glued
together and needed to call the rescue squad to pry us apart. We both
laughed again!  "I'm afraid when we pull apart all that come is going to
feel like ice water and we'll freeze to death on the way to the shower!"
She chuckled so I proposed a plan to wrap us in a bed sheet then we can
stand together and inch our way to the bathroom like Siamese Twin
Mummies. Jen laughed and wanted to play along so using my toes I carefully
snatched the top sheet hanging off the end of the mattress and then draped
it on top of us.  I slowly pushed myself upright so we were still pressed
together, we got out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom wrapped in the bed
sheet. Jen reminded me on the way that I was the only human on earth that
took everything she said literally. I reminded her about my autism and she
said "Ahhh, that's right, you are Mister Literal." When we started the
shower water in my mind I pictured the elderly couple downstairs: he picked
up a small clipboard and made another mark under the SHOWERS column. He's
probably thinking "Dag Nabit! Those lazy damn Mercans `er gonna run Madrid
outta water!"  When she bent over to adjust the shower down to a little
more than a sprinkle I was standing behind her so I leaned forward and slid
the head of my dick up and down between her flaps and pushed back inside
her vagina, she slowly stood back up trying to keep me inside her. I
wrapped my arms around her and lifted her up so she was on her toes and I
was still inside her. Of course my erection was covered with semen and she
is an intact woman, but I was pretty sure she was on oral
contraception. We've had sex many times and she never got pregnant. I think
she took some kind of shot that stopped most of her periods too. We've
never actually had much discussion about birth control, but I trusted her
to manage that department for both of us. Neither of us wanted her to get
pregnant.  I remember well back in 6th grade when she had her first period,
she wanted her mother to take her to the hospital since she was bleeding to
death and she felt like crap. Jen has never been a fan of periodic bleeding
or the idea of having a human baby. It's just not a subject she ever seemed
like she wanted to discuss other than in our tree fort when she was
11. Back when she was a kid, before puberty she spoke about raising a baby
as if it would be as easy as owning a baby doll.  She leaned forward and
put both hands flat on the shower wall so I started fucking her with some
force and speed, she stood there bent over and enjoyed my hammering from
behind while the shower sprinkled on both of us but I was getting it mostly
in my face. I closed my eyes and put my hands on her sides and drove hard
and in a few more seconds I came again. Jen slid forward off my dick and
turned around and we held each other for several minutes of intimate
silence. I think she also enjoyed this embrace because she could feel her
titties pressed against my hairless flat chest.  Jen stepped back, took the
soap and hand washed between her legs and then she washed my dick and balls
then we got out of the shower and toweled off again. The bathroom was dark
except for one candle burning in the soap dish.  I dried off her body from
toes to nose, she dried her hair. I dried off with the same towel and had a
hard time taking my eyes off the front of her body because she is totally
hot and she excites me just looking at her.  I wiggled against her back and
reached around to gently fondle her nipples for a while and fell asleep
with my hand on her breast.  Jen's breasts are smallish, like a small
B-cup. She has two rather large nips on those breasts. Her nips are puffy,
meaning the areolas look like they had fat cells injected under them so
from the side they look like a pointy mountain peak. On top she has rather
small nipples about as big around as a pencil eraser but they only stick up
about 1/8th inch (4mm). Her nips are the same color as her lips and
tongue. And they are about 2.5" (65mm) across. When stimulated they get
pointier and deeper red. I'm not sure why but her nips turn me on just
looking at them. I could literally spend all day messing around with them
and when we're together, even at a restaurant I constantly mentally picture
exactly how they look at that moment. Her very wide and deep belly button
has nearly the same effect on me, her body just screams sex appeal to
me. She knows this is true and that I would gladly walk from Tangier to
Madrid to spend the day with her naked body.  It's hard to imagine that
back in 4th grade we used to play dirt clod wars in the woods in shorts, no
shirts on and back then our upper bodies looked nearly the same. One of her
most favorite things to do as a kid was to play with trucks outside in the
dirt with no shirt on, exactly the same as me. I bet it drove her mother
crazy! She would come home at dinner time loaded with dirt and her mother
had to get her in the tub and scold her for playing outside with no
shirt. But she'd be back outside the next day and do it again so they
stopped fighting with her. She was a natural tomboy back then and we were
like brother and sister. And during puberty she was constantly showing me
how her tits were developing, she was so happy she had to share it with
someone and I was her best friend then and now. It's hard to believe we've
been close friends since like first grade and now we're both 36.  I slept
all night until her alarm clock woke us up.  ---- In the morning she got up
and put on some skimpy panties and a short tank top to fully expose her
stomach. It's rare for her to be sexually teasing right out of bed in the
morning, but there it was.  I put on gym shorts but nothing else. We made
breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and sausage patties, some brand from
Spain I never heard of.  At 11am she asked (again) if I wanted to go see
her office and I bluntly told her "No Jennifer I came here to see you,
maybe next time." At first she seemed disappointed then quickly got
alternate plans in her head.  We sort of hung out at home in our undies,
luckily she decided to expose lots of flesh all day to me, so I was
constantly horny but not hard.  At 2pm we heard the old folks (Sr & Sra
Landlord) downstairs leave for the store so we put a blanket out on the
floor and I fucked her hard in a missionary position while she fingered her
spot, we both came at nearly the same time. But I pulled out and spunked on
her tummy. I cleaned her up with paper towels and was hard the entire time
just looking at her front side.  Luckily I got her to agree to stay home
all day, she stayed in a loose fitting Dallas Cowboys jersey and I wore
shorts only. That evening we cooked a frozen pizza at 7pm and opened two
more bottles of wine. While she was adding toppings before cooking I slid
my hand under her shirt and gently caressed her nipples which made them
stand at attention, just like my dick. But mine leaked down my leg, hers
did not.  For the 20 minutes the pizza was in the oven we were on the
sofa. She was on her back, I was on top. I pushed her jersey up to her neck
and spent the time with my mouth on her belly button or her breasts or on
her spot. She said I dripped pre-come all over her. Any place I saw a small
wet spot I licked it clean because I really like the taste of my pre-come.
I get the idea Jen doesn't really understand pre-come, what it means, why
it exists, what it does. She refers to it as `that gooey shit that leaks
from dicks when the man wants pussy,' I tried to tell her it means so much
more, and it tastes good, but she didn't want to hear about it. She
actually said `how can something so slimy be good?' So I gave up trying to
convince her it was a yummy magical substance. I can't reach my dick or I'd
make pre-come for myself at home and do it for hours.  After dinner we were
still drinking wine, both bottles were over half empty. She took off her
clothes and sat on the sofa and had me walk over and stand between her
knees so she could blow me, I didn't last long, and she rinsed it down with
a decent swallow of wine. After I came she said on my next trip she's going
to get me a box of diapers so I don't leak all over her apartment. Of
course that was her idea of a joke. What it confirmed was that just the
sight of her body made me super horny and the pre-come was evidence of
that. The problem with pre-come is on some guys it's bitter, they have no
control over the flavor. I think some people think it's related to piss and
that's why it's bitter.  In case you didn't know pre-come is made in two
tiny glands along the urethra (the tube that connects the bladder to the
end of the penis) called Cowper's Glands. The purpose is to pre-treat the
inside of the tube so urine residue doesn't kill the tadpoles (sperms). It
also serves as a natural lubricant for the tip of the penis. Not all men
make pre-come.

We sat on the sofa with only the light from three candles. We sat at
opposite ends with our legs intertwined, I was hard and pointed at the
ceiling most of the time. We teased each other with our toes and she asked
me to stroke it and come while she watched (up close). She got moved around
really close to Little Alex then I slowly wanked as a show for her while
she watched (with a flashlight). She cleaned it up with paper towels and
then we kissed for a while and poured the final glasses making them the
same amount.  She offered to do a sexy belly dance but I told her she was
too drunk so we went to bed and spooned. I took time to slip one hand over
her side to rub her tummy and breasts until I fell asleep with my face
touching her.  ---- The next morning we had leftovers for breakfast then I
took a taxi back to the airport and got back to my apartment at 2:45pm. My
dick was sore and needed a few days off, and my balls were tender too. I
hope I itched her scratch as well as she did mine.  I texted her to see if
she was alive and she texted back: `Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrr' which meant the cat
lady was very happy. I texted Jen a link to a five second video on tik-tok
that was just a dog's tail excitedly wagging. She replied back `Zatly.'
We've found that native Africans tend to pronounce the word `Exactly' as
`Zatly,' so we do it too now just for fun.  ---- While Dan was back in
Texas he left his Morocco phone with me, I took some of his calls and also
got prices on a few services he was investigating, like a used heating oil
delivery truck they located in Spain. His Morocco cell phone would not work
in the States. I never played his voice mail but I answered it during the
day if I was alone.  Daniel had already discovered several business
opportunities with the airport property. It seems that orthodox (Sunni)
Muslim families are constantly searching for G-rated activities the entire
family could do together. One activity that was gaining popularity was
drone flight competitions. Dan was investigating opening up some of the 30
acres to a club with three big competitions every year with awards and
videos and judges. It was a huge family event where competitors flew quad
copters through obstacle courses, sort of like a 9-hole Frisbee golf course
for drones. They fly though raised steel rings, in sequence, as fast as
possible. Even little kids and wives could participate in the competition
because it was broken into classes (men, women, kids under 12, kids over
12).  It took Dan two months to vacate his apartment, nearly twice as long
as he predicted, then he got his trunks sealed and actually had UPS ship
them to a delivery company in Tangier at the big airport. But they had to
wait until UPS had room for such large items on the airplane. Eight weeks
after his previous visit he flew back to Tangier but never told me he was
coming, he just let himself in the apartment with his own key. That day he
used his Morocco cell phone to text me he was back, because I was at work
when he arrived. Since Dan is now a half-citizen of Morocco he can stay as
long as he likes.  ---- The week he returned from Texas his purchase of the
airport property was made legal and he also sent an application to Madrid
to re-new his private pilot license, all he really needed to do was pass
the written test and fly with a Spanish Aviation Authority inspector, but
it was still going to be expensive. He actually applied and paid online
while he was still in Texas. The class he signed up for did not include
instrument certification, he'd do that at a later date. Both of us are
instrument certified, meaning we can fly in marginal weather and rely on
instruments for navigation.  The bad part was he had to go to Madrid for a
few days to take the written test and register as a student then pay for
plane rental and do the practice flights to get ready for the official
test. Anyway it was expensive and would have him up there for almost a
week. To avoid any distractions he got a hotel room near the airport and
never visited Jen, but they talked on the phone every day.  He was up there
Wednesday to Saturday, his final flight test ride was scheduled for
Saturday morning at a small (former) military airbase outside Madrid, and
luckily they had a Cessna 172 for testing and schooling. Like me, he knew
the answers to questions about the 172 by heart (and flight in general),
but he reviewed the book regardless at night in his hotel room because test
questions he had to pass were based on European flight laws, not American
laws. One of those questions was guaranteed to cover what defines a Private
Pilot versus a Commercial Passenger and Commercial Cargo pilot, instrument
versus VFR. The EU recently legalized the Recreational Pilot class of
license which is very popular in the USA and Canada. Recreational Pilot has
much easier to pass health certification requirements but disallows
passengers on board. That way some old guy in his 80s can still fly his
airplane 4 weeks after open heart surgery. Dan said the test in Spain was
also all metric. Dan was in top physical condition and health so he easily
passed the more stringent physical exam. The only thing he had to lie about
was he smokes pot about twice a year.  Daniel video-called me Saturday
morning from the airport in Madrid while he was properly dressed in a black
business suit and waiting for the government evaluator to arrive. He said
his stomach was upset and his hands were shaking because he was so
scared. His testing appointment was 9am and the guy arrived at 9:15am with
no explanation for being late. They got started right away testing the
group of three students. All of them actually arrived at 8am to sit for the
written test, which was already graded and handed to the SAA dude.  While
we were on the phone Dan broke some other news we've both sort of
expected. He said, "I got an email from someone in Houston about a story on
the local TV news, three guards from the prison were just fired along with
the warden. All three guards were arrested on charges of possession of (>50
grams) narcotics and selling illegal drugs inside a secure state facility,
the charges carry a maximum 12 year prison sentence. The warden was fired
for obstruction of justice and destruction of evidence, he was also
arrested and if convicted was possibly going to see ten years in the prison
he managed." Then he got off the phone when the SAA flight tester arrived.
Dan did the pre-flight checks from memory and shouted out loud everything
he was checking on the airplane. The instructor followed behind Dan as he
inspected the airplane before getting in the pilot's seat. And while he was
pre-flighting the airplane the tester also verbally quizzed Dan about
regulations and practices around airports. He saw Dan do the entire cold
start pre-flight checklist in the proper order and correctly. Dan even had
his own Cessna brand tire pressure and tread depth gauges.  Dan
demonstrated proper radio practice when requesting clearances and the same
on his return to the airport. They flew out 10 miles, turned around,
re-entered the traffic pattern and landed on the landing zone marks. The
instructor complimented him on a nearly flawless performance and signed the
form, told him his written test was 100% correct, and then he started the
next student's test. So Dan was once again a licensed pilot. Pilot
licensure is pretty much international but for some nations you need to
present your license to add their stamp, like the EU and UAN (United
African Nations), and a few will have you take their written test before
you get their stamp if you are current on your flight hours.  Dan was super
excited and very happy and called Jen and me. He told us the SAA tester was
very cold and robotic; he never shook his hand or said congratulations. He
said his check flight was 99.9% and his written test was 100%, then he
signed the card and handed it to Dan then turned to face the two men in the
back seat of the Cessna and asked who was next. Dan sat there speechless
then quietly open the door and got out and walked away assuming he was
finished. He told me the guy with the beautiful long black hair went next
in the pilot's seat, they made eye contact with a smile as Dan climbed out
and smiled at him seated directly behind him.  He checked out of the hotel
and got a taxi ride (all the way across the city) to the big Madrid airport
and purchased a ticket for the next flight to Tangier. Back at home he told
me he played a Jedi mind trick on his flight tester, the guy asked why his
logbook had no recent entries and Dan told him he just bought an airport,
he's been kind of busy servicing and testing crop duster airplanes. So the
guy marked him as up to date on left-seat time, which was not really
true. But he was able to claim the hours we spent flying the Citation
together since he was co-piloting and had control of the aircraft when I
used the bathroom.

One week after he returned to Morocco Dan received a printed title to the
airport property and we had a small party. The next day he took a train to
Rabat to look at class-A motorhomes again and picked out one and paid cash
and drove it home. He arrived really late and it was a problem figuring out
where to park it at my apartment complex.  Since car ownership in Morocco
is not very common there isn't much parking at my apartment complex but Dan
found a place in visitor parking, two buildings away. The distance bothered
Dan because we couldn't keep an eye on it from our windows. Both of us
spent a lot of time working inside cleaning it up, especially the bathroom
and kitchen areas. The motorhome he purchased had no tip-outs because those
are not legal to sell in Europe or Africa because they supposedly increase
the odds of the passengers being seriously injured in a side impact
collision or roll-over. His motorhome has the same basic dimensions as a
modern day Greyhound Bus in the USA. All the way in the back (above the
engine and transmission) is the tiny bathroom, then the small bedroom, then
comes the combined kitchen and living room and one front seat, not two
because of the location of the door in the front corner.  The used
motorhome he purchased was built in France and was very nice inside, I was
impressed by the comfort level and sound insulation. It had central air and
a fold-down TV antenna and satellite antenna too. And like a modern motor
coach his had huge storage areas under the floor but this one has an
automatic transmission with a highway gear so it can cruise along at 70mph
at 1200rpm on flat land.  The first two weeks after his Madrid trip he went
to the Danville Airport daily. One time was to meet with the utility guy
about where he wanted the lines run and where to mount the meter box and
220v outlet to plug-in the motorhome. He decided to park it about 18 feet
from the Air Traffic Control tower building (ATC). He decided that building
would be his first project. He also met one asphalt contractor about the
runway and asked for an emailed estimate. He had meetings scheduled with
three companies, but all of them used the same asphalt plant, which was
about 34 miles away to the west.  He also did some looking online at used
vehicles, he knew he would end up buying a used pick-up truck. Every night
he was back in my apartment and we discussed the day's events and I helped
keep him on a timeline and what was best to do next. We discussed him
moving to the airport but he knew he needed power and water first. Tomorrow
he was going to call the septic tank guy to come evaluate the old 1940
system (behind the ATC building) and see if it could be repaired.  Dan did
not want to commute daily in his motorhome so he took a black taxi, the
expensive one that picks up and stops anywhere. And while he had the paving
contractor over he asked about one load of crushed limestone to make a
parking area for the motorhome near the ATC building. The guy gave him a
price and Dan paid in cash on the spot. They marked a spot on the ground in
spray paint.  While they were measuring the runway the contractor commented
that it appeared they used the other side (south of the runway as the
airplane and large vehicle parking area (tarmac) back in the 1940s, it was
still hard packed. He pointed out something Dan never noticed. There was
what looked like a tightly packed one-lane dirt road running beside the
runway on the north side but it was obscured by weeds today, but if you
looked closely you could still see the tire ruts from the 1940s. He
suggested Dan spray it with a weed killer and the road would be revealed,
it would stop people from having to drive on the runway itself to get to
the ATC building. Dan said it was too close to the runway. If someone was
landing while a car was on that road the airplane wing could easily hit the
car.  ---- Late that week the news was the septic system was in fantastic
shape. They cleaned out the grease trap and cut the line that ran from the
2000 gallon septic tank to the ATC building and inserted a T, and buried a
new PVC line to where the motorhome will be parked then he was ready to
park the vehicle and could connect the sewer line to the new sewage
connector in the ground and start flushing the toilet, using the sinks and
shower. The guy would come back in a month and pump out the tank because it
had two feet of dried powder in the bottom since it hadn't been used in
over 70 years!  Dan said they inserted a sewer line camera in the grease
trap to inspect the three 100' long leach bed lines and said they looked
practically new, with a few roots growing but those could be easily taken
care of. He marked the invading bushes and trees for Dan to remove. They
made an appointment for the guy to come back with his pumper truck, he was
actually going to pump liquid sewage into the tank to liquefy the 2 foot
layer of hard crud in the bottom and come back in four weeks to pump it
empty.  Dan also hired a water delivery service. The company dug a pit and
placed a 5,000 liter (1300gallons) plastic water tank with a built-in 220v
pump, switch and connectors for a few garden hoses (one to run to the
motorhome). After burial he filled the tank and tested the pump. Dan also
purchased a 5g cellular data hotspot and that weekend he drove the
motorhome to the airport and officially moved out there. Next, he needed a
truck of some kind, for that he went by taxi to the nearby town and
purchased a used Toyota truck with cash. So he was in business sort-of.
Since I was alone once again I went back to my nightly schedule of wanking
in bed. Most of the time I mentally replayed a fantasy I've always had
about having Dan on his hands and knees over my face with his rod in my
mouth while Jen was further down nursing on my boner while she finger
massaged my hole. That was always my ultimate sex fantasy.  And before I
forget to mention it, it's been nearly three months since the last time I
heard anything from Patrik. He said he was working down the coast near
Rabat.  ---- Dan later told me the water tank was filled with local town
tap water, but the new tank itself would impart a plastic bottle flavor, it
was perfectly safe to wash, bathe, flush with but he recommended getting
several 15 liter plastic water jugs and filling them at the RO machine at
any store in town. Those would be for drinking and cooking. The guy said
after several months the plastic scent in the water from the tank would
disappear. He said he's installed dozens of them over the years he's been
delivering water to people far outside of town.  Another problem he had to
work out was he needed to install a pressure tank and pressure switch for
the water pump so it didn't hammer off and on constantly while water was
being used. The pressure tank buffered the water pressure and made the pump
run normally like any farm with its own water well in the yard.  One more
thing Dan said he got done was he signed a service contract for a
Porta-Potty type thing. For $30 a month they placed a unit where he wanted
it then the truck would arrive once every 60 days to pump it out and power
wash the inside, but the service did not include toilet paper or hand
sanitizer. He signed, paid, and had them place it near the electricity pole
and his new water tank. The one he rented had a latch which allowed him to
key lock it if he wanted. Before they placed it they had to level the
ground and remove the weeds, then he used a small crane on the truck to
place the tall green fiberglass box.  He also had two more paving companies
come over and measure and send him estimates for re-paving the runway
(4800feet long, 30 feet wide, 4-5 inches thick = 38,000 cubic feet of
asphalt x12lbs= 456,000 pounds =228 tons=11 trips to the asphalt plant=2-3
days to place on the roadbed).  (FYI: the marked runway on the flight deck
of the WW2 aircraft carrier USS Yorktown CV-5 was about 780 feet long and
50 feet wide. A thirty foot wide runway today is dangerously narrow in some
weather conditions).  Dan informed me the basic runway at a small town
airport today would probably be no narrower than 60 feet across, so why the
German Air Force had a 30 foot wide runway was a mystery, other than it
might be based on an aircraft carrier or some kind of hidden runway, or a
runway disguised as a street. It's possible they had a narrow runway
because back in the 1940s there was still a critical short supply of
asphalt and concrete!  After the runway is paved they are going to add a
highly compacted gravel shoulder three feet wide on both sides and compact
it flat (downward slope), making it nearly 40 feet wide, which is also VERY
narrow for a runway. Most small municipal airport runways are 60 feet wide,
commercial runways at least 100 feet wide.  Luckily, the modern machines
for laying a new asphalt roadway on a roadbed are very efficient and it
should take them just a few days to finish. For those days our airport will
receive most of the output of the (northern) state asphalt plant, meaning
no other roads will be paved anywhere in northern Morocco while ours is
being done. For the country of Morocco our airport will be a big deal and
probably end up in the local TV news and in print.  I already started
transferring money into my checking account to cover my half of that bill.
---- Upstairs in the apartment we worked on his shopping list for life in
the desert. He wanted to order some solar panels right away but at first
the entire thing could run off commercial power but with frequent power
outages he wanted an alternate supply. We discussed solar panels charging
deep cycle batteries. I reminded him his motorhome had a propane powered
electricity generator but he said that was only for emergencies, because
the propane tank is small and he had to drive the entire bus into town to
get the tank filled, the tank was welded to the bus frame. He said he was
told the power goes out almost daily in that part of Morocco. He said they
told him to expect five to 60 minutes of power outage daily. I suggested
since the wind never reaches truly zero there he might look into a wind
mill for DC power.  Dan updated me on his income from his parents estate,
he said he still had more money coming as his sister decided to get honest
instead of end up in court, she sent him another check. Dan said he had no
idea how much money his father made from college textbook royalties. He
said he started to receive monthly checks from the publisher, he earned
about $900 a month for royalties. His father's textbooks are sold at almost
every college campus bookstore in the USA and Canada.  He got a voice mail
that his trunks arrived in Tangier and he had to pick them up within 72
hours or they would charge him for storage so he decided to do that
tomorrow morning, go there in a red taxi and go home in a black taxi and
he'd put the Texas trunks in the motor home.  Refrigerators in motor homes
are usually small, so I suggested once he gets settled to try to run a
power cord inside the old control tower building and put a larger
refrigerator or deep freezer out there. We discussed wild animals in the
desert too. I expect he'll see predator cats of some kind, rodents,
porcupine, skunk, lizards, fox, snakes, (macaque) monkeys, and all kinds of
birds like crows, ravens, and vultures. Several of those animals can figure
out how to open a refrigerator door or kitchen cabinet, especially after
watching a human do it, even from a safe distance.  Dan said he'll
resurrect the control tower building after the runway. He'd replace the
missing windows and doors, and then re-install the plumbing. The inside of
the building was totally stripped out, including the inside walls. It's a
30x30 ft concrete above ground bunker with a wide staircase going up to a
small 2nd floor, which is about 12'x12' with a peaked concrete roof on four
concrete pillars and unobstructed openings all the way around. He said it
would be a perfect spot to take a date some day. But the 2nd floor also has
a killer view since it sits above everything except the Atlas Mountains. He
said four custom windows and it's a control tower again. They'd have to be
custom made, all four openings looked to be around three feet tall and six
feet wide. The downstairs only had one window and three exterior 30" doors.
He said he would paint the entire roof with something like Drylok paint and
replace the windows in the control tower to keep out the birds and
rain. Once that was done he'll re-install doors and a window on the ground
floor. After it was weather-tight he'll build a bathroom and maybe a place
to set up a clothes washer and dryer, and some kind of office. He said he
really does not want to run the airport out of the motorhome because that
will be his private residence and he doesn't want all kind of strangers
inside his house, tracking in sand and lizard turds.  Just to make a crude
hetero joke I knew Dan would enjoy I told him after he moved I was not
going to put my face anywhere near his body unless he figured out how to
bathe with hot running water, "I like cheese but not on my pussy." He
thought that was funny and replied with "If it ain't clean enough to eat,
it ain't clean enough to fuck!"  We already discussed that he was going to
buy a few refillable plastic 4 gallon water jugs and fill them at the
nearest gas station for drinking and cooking water. And with the addition
of a decent ice chest he'll be fine for days at a time. As he improves the
property his time at the airport will increase, and who knows about how
long it will take until other people find out there is a private airstrip
there and other aviation nuts will start to add their talents.  Dan said
the coin-operated RO water machines commonly found at gas stations and
inside stores accept one coin, a two-dirham Moroccan coin which is worth
about twenty cents USA, for one liter of RO water. A dirham is sort of like
a dollar in Morocco but is actually only worth about ten cents USA. In
Morocco most vending machines take the different denominations of dirham
coins and the EU dollar coin too. Almost every store in Morocco also takes
the EU paper currency. It's also customary for prices of individual items
in stores to be rounded up or down to the nearest dollar coin. So in any
store you'll never see a total sale of $24.71. It will always be rounded up
or down to the next whole EU dollar. Most stores in Morocco only accept the
Euro one-dollar coin and all their paper currency which is roughly the same
as the USA except it's a $25 bill instead of a $20 paper bill. Since they
accept both most cash drawers in stores are huge compared to the ones in
Texas! That is one place where something in Texas isn't bigger than the
rest of the world.

That evening we seriously discussed the runway and agreed to split the
cost, we even shook on it. They would come in on day #1 with a backhoe, two
dump trucks, and maybe a road grader to scoop up the old asphalt layer and
haul it to the plant. That'll take two days. I said, "Remember, 4800 feet
is almost eight tenths of a mile, so it's going to take time and a lot of
asphalt."  "You know what's funny is every one of those guys who came out
with their wheel measuring device got a different number for the total
length. That's not reassuring."  "Yes, just like the old joke about the
well driller's tape measure always has the first three feet cut off." Dan
looked like he didn't understand but I didn't want to explain. It had
something to do with the fact that they charge by the foot. I guess it
would be something like if you pre-paid for ten gallons on the gas pump and
when you turned it on the pump already showed you pumped a gallon when you
haven't even put the nozzle in your car yet!  I asked him if paying half
made me a business partner and Dan just laughed but had nothing else to
say. He knows he can trust me, but I think we should have something on
paper. Maybe he sees it as a gift, but I see it as either a partnership or
investment.  Back to the subject of runways I reminded him once many years
ago I went with my Fam to Hawaii, we went on a tour at Ford Island and the
USS Missouri and the Ford Island runway was in the exact same
condition. Asphalt is made of tiny pebbles and a tarry residue from an oil
distillation tower. That tarry oil substance is mixed with small rocks and
other chemicals then heated to form the paving material we also call
asphalt. Over time the oil component breaks down and all that remains is
those tiny pebbles and some black powdery stuff. So they scoop it up and
haul it to the plant, clean it to remove dirt and re-mix with heated
asphalt tar and its brand new again. Both the old German WW2 runway and the
one at Ford Island in Pearl Harbor are in the same shape, just three inch
(8cm) layer of tar stained pebbles.  It will take them almost two full days
to remove the old runway asphalt and haul it to the asphalt plant and once
the roadbed passes their inspection then they can begin spreading fresh
asphalt on the old concrete and gravel roadbed. Once he gets the old
surface removed he'll walk the entire length of the old roadbed with a
radar unit to determine where the thickest part is, they always mark that
for where the pilot should touch the wheels since it's built to take the
impact. Sometimes it's four times thicker than the rest of the runway. When
any airplane lands the first few seconds of contact from the tires can
exert a huge amount of downward force into the runway, in addition to the
weight of the airplane it also has downward motion energy.  The Cessna 172
with two pilots and half a tank of fuel weighs close to 2300 pounds
(1050kg). I think its Newton's Second Law of Motion, the net effect is the
airplane has forward momentum and downward momentum, and dead
weight. Suddenly the impact of the landing gear on the runway can exceed
over 6,000 pounds from a 2,300 pound airplane. Imagine the impact from a
landing Airbus A380 with 600 souls on board and three Yorkies down in the
cargo hold.  The new runway has to be the same width as the original WW2
runway, twenty eight feet across with firmly packed gravel another three
feet out from the edge of the asphalt on both sides. It's going to cost
each of us about $20,000 to replace the runway. Later, I'm going to fly the
Citation over and park it in the hangar. There's another good reason to
cover a parked jet sitting outside, the cover tends to ruin the
aerodynamics of the wing so it won't create as much lift when a
thunderstorm blows over the airport, and enough lift to flip the plane
over. That is the reason why when you see photos of a severe storm that hit
an airport the wrecked airplanes are usually upside-down.  The asphalt guy
said he'd paint one thin white line the entire length of the runway and
paint the boundaries of the reinforced section (landing zone). We think by
painting a thin line pilots will see it and think it's just a private
street and not an airport. But eventually word will get out and Dan will
get buzzed daily. The crop dusters in the area will be the first to notice
the resurrected runway.  I told Dan I thought his first big investment
(after the runway) might be a used Bobcat skid loader with a backhoe
attachment because he's going to be doing a lot of digging over the next
few years. I also suggested he should invest in good flashlights, a 12gau
shotgun, power tools, and hand tools. He should see if the local Home Depot
manager has an unmarried daughter his age too!  We had a lengthy discussion
about crop dusters, guys who fly custom airplanes to spread chemicals on
farm fields. They need a place to land and re-fill the chemical tank and
the fuel tank. They usually have a ground support truck with two tanks, one
for fuel and another for fertilizer, bug spray, or even seeds. But they
need a place to land and have their ground crew re-load the plane then they
take off again. The problem with roads is stuff close to the edge, like
fence posts, mail boxes, or a utility pole the pilot didn't see when he
landed. And once they land if any cars drive up they can't get past, which
makes them pissed and they call the cops.  Here in Morocco farm fields are
a lot smaller than they are in the grasslands of the USA, so the pilots try
to arrange several fields in one area to treat on one day, weather
permitting. In rural Morocco they often land on dirt roads to reload the
plane, but that's illegal and very dangerous but they have no access to
commercial airports. This is why Dan believes his airstrip will eventually
get super busy part of the year. But he needs to figure out how much to
charge to let them land, service the planes, and take off again. They'll
need a ground space about 100ft x 100ft with road access. Dan also said he
has no idea how many of those crop dusters exist north of the Atlas
Mountains. But he knows there are NO airports supporting them now. Crop
dusters are not allowed to land at commercial airports, except in case of
emergency. And if they land because they are out of fuel, most commercial
airports don't stock aviation gasoline, just jet fuel.  So this is Dan's
evolving business plan as of today: 1. Accommodate the rapidly growing
drone racing league as a family oriented outdoor show 3-times a
year. Charge them rent and operate a retail booth selling hot snack food
like hot dogs, popcorn, and soft drinks. 2. Rent space beside the runway to
crop dusters on an hourly or daily basis to facilitate their refueling and
reloading chemicals, and use of the runway. Since the agri-service
businesses is seasonal and not highly profitable prices must be kept low to
attract customers. This service will make a profit on volume, not on
individual accounts. But care must be taken to watch for rule breakers
(dumping chemicals on the ground). They will need to sign an agreement and
probably need to be video recorded too. This might require the use of a
person in the ATC tower operating a VHF aviation transceiver to prevent
crashes on the runway. 3. Operate as a small private airport and rent
outdoor storage/tie-down space to local airplane owners. 4. Purchase bulk
aviation gasoline, not jet fuel, and sell at retail out of an oil delivery
truck modified for aviation gasoline.  Of all of these facets of the
business the one that seems the most profitable so far may be the drone
racing league and the sale of what could be called County Fair food. This
business would require a potentially large investment for power lines to
operate lights in the hangars and the food stand behind the hangar. The
racing operation brings their own diesel generator.

Oh, before I end the chapter I should let you know I got another email from
Luis Rodriguez in Madrid, the dude with the hair from the party. He told me
his grandfather lives in Tangier and he comes down here several times a
year to visit his abuelo. He said that was why he was able to attend the
party where we met. I should say that when guys see me suck dick that makes
enough of an impression that they cannot resist the temptation. I expect to
see Luis again this year, it gives me something to imagine while I stroke
my wiener. I'm praying his sex drive is at least as strong as mine.

Dan returned to Tangier without notice, one day when I got home from work
he was on the sofa surfing porn sites on my computer, but I was glad to see
him. We met eyes and both smiled.

Contact the author: borischenaz at mailfence