Your erotic stories

When I was seven I wrote a story about a space ship landing in our back yard. The aliens were friendly and, at some point, they ate purple ice cream. As mothers do, mine told me it was brilliant. A year later, I thought it was dumb. A year after that, I wished I could write like that again. The next year, I burned it. My mom spanked me for playing with matches. The next day I wrote a story about a mean old mother and her reign of terror. As mothers do, she said it was cruel. The next day, I burned it.

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Gary and Daniella, Dani to most folks, had invited Sue and me to a casual card game and dinner. Two of Gary's younger friends were still there, helping him with the same car that had crushed Gary's legs two months ago. Gary asked them to join us, so they laid a thick 4x8' plywood sheet on the basement Bumper Pool table over some towels to protect the rails. Dani pulled a painter's tarp over the makeshift table and covered it all with a heavy tablecloth.

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