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