They are going to the Summer Music Festival!After 30 minutes of working up the courage to talk to them the announcement is made, I board the plane las..., they are all sitting up front of the plane, and I further back."Maybe if I put up my tent close to theirs we could get to know one another. Chances are at least one of them will take a liking to me, or maybe several. With some beer in my belly I'm sure I'll find the courage this time!" - I think to yourself. Fantasizing about how I'll sleep. They had more electrical outlets than appliances. They had computers and televisions.They didn’t have phones. Not for the most part. I didn’t know anyone who had a landline.Most of the houses were unfamiliar but occasionally I would pass one and think, Jim Robertson lived there. Moved away after sixth grade. Or, German shepherd that likes to chase bicycles. Be careful. Mostly, though, they didn’t ring a bell. The streets weren’t laid out on a perfect grid like the prewar neighborhood I grew up. Flicking up your back lightly until I reach your neck. I run my tounge over the shell of your ear and hear your breathing quicken.Turning you over, I continue to massage your head with my thumbs and your ear and neck with my lips. Turning my attentions to your face, your eyes are closed so I lightly sprinkle kisses over your face, running my tounge along your lips. Your tounge meets mine briefly and then I move lower. My hands rubbing your shoulders and chest, my tounge flicking your hard. Nope, not his lap, just belly fat. And more belly fat. Boss Hogg reached under and guided my hand down to his crotch and rubbed my hand all over it. I could feel his little chubby hardening under his distended trousers. Dear god, he couldnt be much bigger than an index finger and no thicker then my thumb. I struggled with his beltbuckle and his fly one handed while the two men chatted sports and politics. Boss Hogg was dismayed at the alarming number of negroes and other coloured folk taking up.