Take a walk out by the moisture vaporators.

You exit the Lars garage and kick pebbles across the desert floor to blow off steam. You’re still angry at your uncle for shutting down your latest bid to join the academy. He’s got to be onto your less-than-chaste interest in the academy’s holovids. The washboard abs and tightly cut trousers of the Empire’s best have been appearing in your dreams for years. Unfortunately, you’ll have to wait another season before you’ll get the chance to peel one out of his flight suit.

Bummer.

The twin suns of Tatooine bob lower on the horizon. "I’ll never get off this rock”, you think as you stare out at the sunsets.

Beyond those gas giants are innumerable stars and among those stars are mouths and mandibles, hands and tentacles, all eager to explore every inch of a fresh-faced farm boy from the outer rim. Your pants tent at the thought of the possibilities the galaxy has to offer.