My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my pocket to see that it was a text from Lynn.“Our friend has landed. Will be on our way as soon as we get lu...gage. LuvU”I responded with an emoji. I had just learned what they were and how to send them in a text. Soon a smiley-heart was flying through the ether to my first wife. The door opened and five little cowgirls ran into the room.“What is this?” I asked with my hands on top of my head and a big smile on my face.“Daddy! We’re cowgirls!” Margaret. ”“I want to make you feel good,” she said.Before I could respond, she had the head of my dick in her mouth, sucked once, then quickly released me.“Did I do that right?” she asked.Was she kidding? No, she wasn’t. It was the question of an inexperienced girl. One who needed reassurance.“Yes,” I said. “Perfectly.”She smiled and took my glans into her mouth again. This time, when she sucked, she didn’t release me. A few seconds later I felt the tip of her tongue against me and I knew I was a. This bird had had some digital displays added—all smashed—but had retained the old style instrumentation. Ken found comfort in that fact, since that is what he was used to depending on in the C130 Hercules. Still there were over 970 lights, gauges and switches on this flight deck. Digitalization on newer models had cut that number by 70%. All of the old stuff still appeared to work. He had bootlegged a few hours with an Air Force buddy in a KC135—the Air Force version of the venerable 707 but. Chuckling, he returned to the cave.“Get the sills in?” she asked as she dumped sliced potatoes into the skillet.“Yeah,” he returned as he began flattening another log, “but instead of two holes in the floor, I cut one long one under where the seats will be. I’ll saw out a wide board or two for the seats and cut the holes in it.” He tried to stress the plural without overemphasizing it too much.Without hesitation, “Sounds good,” she returned straight-faced. “Not that I know anything about.
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