Your erotic stories

Connor Franks arrived at tiny Municipal Airport in Owens Mill a day ahead of Thanksgiving. His trip from Syracuse University in New York had led him on a series of connecting flights and long bus rides. Fortunately he had found a little charter airline that would fly him over the mess of a snowstorm that had crippled the great plains and cancelled his scheduled landing in Wichita.

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The whole of the extended Franks clan had shown up for Christmas Eve. There were Franks from Denver, Franks from Lincoln and Franks from Kansas City. Ironically there were no Franks from Frankfurt, Connor figured they couldn't make it. Not that it mattered to him, less Franks meant less people to point and whisper.

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