My girlfriend is an economist. An academic-a real expert economist. Sounds pretty boring, right? Number crunching, calculators, computer databases? Well, let’s just say that all of that clinical economic talk, with those dry statistics and pie charts, makes her cherry pie quite damp when it comes time for some leisure. Especially since I ordered some Generic Cialis, and my leading economic indicator experienced a sudden spike-she was eager to get on board. She said she was bullish on me, and proceeded to ride me like a bull. Markets were looking up. The price of crude was rising because of increased demand-but at the same time, supply was on the rise too, with new drilling going on constantly. Since I’d begun using Generic Cialis, I’d been pumping her full of crude for weeks on end. She said the smart money was on gold, and she complimented me on my gold bullion. I delivered a long, hard brick of it right into her cute little Fort Knox. I pounded that bullion into her like a ramrod, like a battering ram, banging again and again into her heavily guarded gates, as she shrieked and laughed with almost hysterical delight. Generic Cialis had turned me into a sexual monster-a real bison. When she launched into some of her economic dirty talk during sex, it just aroused me even more.

I’ll never forget her lecture on trickle-down economics. She mentioned it one time when I got a bit anxious and… trickled down just a bit. She said I was crazy if she thought that supply was going to reach those sectors of the economy most in need of economic stimulation. I said that with my gargantuan Generic Cialis erection, I reckoned I could reach just about anyone I wanted. I told her I’d penetrate into the lowest strata of her local economy. She said that was just a myth-that her economic needs were much deeper than I suspected, looking down on things from my position, on top. She said that yes, Generic Cialis had brought unprecedented prosperity to me, up on top. But the idea that a mere trickle of wealth, a few measly drips of liquid capital to those depressed lower regions, would be enough to lead to a full recovery, was just a myth, and wasn’t based on sound economics. Then she gave my Generic Cialis engorged Greenspan a playful slap, as if to stir it to action. Its bald head became even more red all of a sudden, it frowned a bit, and pledged to work for the benefit of those who needed it most. I plunged it into her depressed area and pumped it full of revitalizing investment. She screamed, and thanked me for listening to sound economic reason. Thanks to Generic Cialis, what once had been a pitiful trickle had turned into a bountiful, steady stream. Now that was some good cash flow! Huge increase in turnover, too. Because when I was done on top, I turned her over and probed her there as well.

When it was all over, and it was clear the Generic Cialis had produced a staggering recovery, she rewarded my little Roosevelt with a new nickname-the “New Deal.” She praised the innovation and fresh economic thinking I’d brought to the table (I forgot to note that all of the above happened on top of our kitchen table). She just wondered if this miraculous growth could be sustained over the long run. She underestimated Generic Cialis in the beginning, I suppose. Because I kept ordering the stuff, after I saw my initial results… and ever since, I’ve been sowing her fertile fields with bounty and prosperity. Sometimes she wonders if I should spread my investments to the third world as well, extend my economic pipeline to those needy areas. But I’m not about to buy plane tickets just yet. I mean, I enjoy things like indoor plumbing. And anyway, Generic Cialis is available now all over the world. So bedroom prosperity isn’t just the domain of the wealthy anymore. It’s everyman’s right. And that’s something my girlfriend can drink to!

My girlfriend is a high school Latin teacher. No joke. Given that information, you might assume she’s a real stick-in-the-mud. The fact is, she’s a little hottie, and a total sex maniac. Some nights she calls me Augustus Maximus. Others, she calls me Phallus Imperator. Others, she refers to me as Lickus Clitorissimus. That’s how things were before I needed Generic Viagra. I used to give it to her long, hard, and righteous, like Cicero used to give it to his ancillae (that means slave-women, guys). I used to probe her with the scepter of Julius Caesar. She used to refer to my colossal erections as a symbol of the Roman Empire-the so-called fasces, which were a bundle of rods tied around a battle axe. Back then, I didn’t need Generic Viagra to get a towering hard-on. But, hey, times changes. Empires come and go. And soon, I began having erectile dysfunction problems that could have brought an emperor to his knees. My little Latin teacher was going off to class deeply unsatisfied-it hurt me to look at her! I realized that I’d have to get serious about my problem, instead of denying it. I’d had enough of the stupid diets and holistic healing techniques that involve grinding the horn of a rhinoceros and mixing it into your coffee, and all that nonsense. I decided to order Generic Viagra, and I went online and ordered the stuff. True, I continued eating raw oysters, at least half-a-dozen a day. With generous portions of beer. This was my sexual health regimen, and I think it was a good one.

Along with the erectile dysfunction had come serious paranoia, and self-hatred. I was insanely jealous of those high school seniors of hers there in her Latin class-I knew they were all “hot for teacher,” and that it wouldn’t take any Generic Viagra for them to respond to her mammary glands jostling about every time she reached up to write some verb conjugation on the blackboard. I’d have to be naive to think that they were actually thinking about Latin! I wondered if one of them might stay after class and give her what I couldn’t-because she was just crying out for sex. It was written on her face. If Generic Viagra didn’t work for me, I knew it would only be a matter of time before one of those disgusting adolescents made her feel like a woman. Sure, it’d only last a couple of minutes-none of them would be capable of the multi-hour marathons I used to give her, back before I even had to consider Generic Viagra.

Finally, my Generic Viagra order arrived, discreetly packaged! No one knew my embarrassing secret, since I’d ordered online. I took a pill, got in the car with no underwear on, and drove to the school-I knew classes would be ending soon. And I was planning a special extra-curricular after-school activity with my wife. I pulled up and walked to her classroom, past a dozen or so repulsive, pizza-faced juvenile males, and, like some Generic Viagra Odysseus, home from his travels in the sea of erectile dysfunction, reclaimed my home and my bed and my beautiful Penelope from those usurpers. My wife smiled, surprised, as I pulled out my Ben Hur and drove her against the blackboard, where we erased the day’s verb conjugations as we went at it. Moments later I’d bent her over the desk, and gave it to her like Caligula. Thank Jupiter, and all the gods, for Generic Viagra! This is how it’s done, discipuli! Optime!

Things sure were different last Thanksgiving! That was before I finally broke down and ordered some Generic Viagra, determined to satisfy my nymphomaniac wife, who’d caused quite a scene at the family Thanksgiving gathering, which was at our home, as usual. She’d broken into hysterics when she pulled out the turkey baster to baste the freaking turkey with. I guess she was jealous of the stupid turkey, getting that nice, juicy baste of juice. She remembered how I used to baste her, and also remembered how I’d refused to order Generic Viagra. And believe it or not, she let her mother and every other member of the extended family hear all about it, right over Thanksgiving dinner. I, for one, was scandalized. The rest of the family just chuckled at my expense. I was crestfallen. After this humiliation, I knew my proud cock-of-the-walk would retreat into its coop and never show its head again, unless I ordered some Generic Viagra. And I did exactly that, that very night, with the vow to bang my wife into hysteria over the coming year, so that next year, when I saw my beloved Motherinlawasaurus Rex, I’d be able to cause a scene of a different sort. I placed my order for my Generic Viagra on the Internet, as soon as the last football game was over, and in just a couple of days, it arrived. When my wife got home from her silly holiday mall grazing, I burned her little barn down. She was finally satisfied, and slept like a baby. I doubt she rang up her mom to tell her of my triumph-but then, I wouldn’t put anything past those two. I wonder why they didn’t marry each other. I guess that’s illegal in most states.

After our Generic Viagra year, my wife had a lot to be thankful for. Of course, I hadn’t exactly suffered either; it had felt good to get my rocks off. To “take a load off,” as the saying goes. I was relaxed, loosey-goosey; and my wife had mellowed out quite a bit too. Like most women, she was never really happy unless she was getting pounded hard, and every which way. That’s the way she liked it, and since I’d ordered Generic Viagra, that’s the way she’d been getting it. And so, the world kept turning, and finally, the next Thanksgiving arrived. Once again, her entire obnoxious, ignorant family pulled into my driveway and stank up my bathrooms. Her mother came to the door with a fake, saccharine smile; it was all I could do to play the gentleman and kiss her on both cheeks without retching all over her tacky dress and fake pearls. I wanted to give her some Generic Viagra and tell her to please have her husband turn that frown of hers upside down for the first time in twenty years. Well, I controlled myself. I was plotting something to really blow her mind. I wanted to go on a tirade.

I wanted my precious mother-in-law to understand that, with the help of Generic Viagra, I was the undisputed man of the house, and that I was making her little girl feel like a woman every other night (at least!). I’d been plotting my revenge all year, and I’d concocted a brilliant, extremely dramatic plan. It involved the turkey baster. I was going to get freaky in front of the entire extended family. They didn’t have to know about the Generic Viagra inspiration for my harangue-only that I was wearing the pants around here, and that they’d better not laugh at my supposed “impotence” if they wanted to be guests in my home. I’d throw them all out on their asses-if I never saw any of them again, it would be too soon! To be continued!

Hello from Europe, Generic Viagra men of the world! It’s me, William the Conqueror, living the dream. As some of you may remember, I’ve been sharing my diary entries from my Grand Tour of Europe, which I gave to my wife for her silver anniversary. Thanks to Generic Viagra, that’s not all I’ve been giving to her, let me tell you! I ordered my first shipment just days before our trip, knowing that there’d be hell to pay if I was unable to pleasure her during our trip, which would last for almost a month. Thanks be to Jove, my shipment arrived on schedule, just one day before we left; and I took my first does of Generic Viagra as our plane was touching down in Paris. Long story short (and I mean long!), I was banging her with my buttery baguette the minute we got to our hotel. Things went on like that throughout our trip-from impaling her on my Eiffel tower in Paris, to spearing her with my Bavarian sausage in Germany, to smoking her with my hookah tube in Egypt, to whipping her with my wet noodle in Italy. I earned my share of Generic Viagra inspired nicknames along the way, too-Erekticles, Erectus Maximus, Ramses the Great (because I ram a lot). Finally, we made it to Prague… for a taste of Eastern Europe. I was looking forward to the Czech beer halls-I wanted to see if Czech beer was really as good as the German stuff. First of all, the girls were cute as pie, and friendly too. But I only had eyes for my wife, of course! And with my Generic Viagra along for the journey, I planned on continuing to liberate my long-suffering wife from her Iron Curtain.

We went to a beer hall in the middle of Prague called the “Golden Tiger.” Funny, my wife started calling my little guy that later that evening, as she tried to coax it out of its thicket, where it was lying in ambush. Tanks to Generic Viagra, it wouldn’t take long to rouse it! But that’s for later. Anyway, we sat down at a table, and before we’d gotten comfortable, some guy came out with a tray full of beers and set down two in front of us, without asking what we wanted-he just assumed we’d be having beer. Or else, why the hell would we have come? I liked this Czech attitude! My wife and I had several beers, and discussed the virtues of Generic Viagra. Later, our waiter brought us a Czech liqueur, called Becherovka. We asked him what the heck it was, and he told us, in broken English, that it was healthy. I decided to take it with some Generic Viagra – I’d be as healthy as an ox that night, and hung like one, too! Funny, Czechs call each other oxes when they want to be insulting… “Ty vole!” My wife picked up on this, and soon she was calling my Johnson by that name. I hope she meant well by it! No doubt, it had been a workhorse on this trip-pulling every load we asked it to.

When we got back to the hotel, which overlooked the Old Town Square, the Generic Viagra had already kicked in; I’d had a raging Bohemian hard-on all the way home, through those winding streets. My wife sat on my Golden Tiger and rode the wave. Outside our window, we could see the monument to Jan Hus, who was burned at the stake. My wife asked me to burn her on my woody stake, and I agreed to do so. With the Generic Viagra coursing through my veins, assuring proper blood circulation, maintaining my stake throughout the ceremony was no problem. As the fires began to lick at her cherry strudel, she begged for mercy, but that just poured fuel on the fire. But I’ll continue this story in another entry…

I’ve got a tasty Generic Cialis tale for you guys: it has to do with my job as an ice cream truck operator. And it’s true what they say: they all scream for ice cream. The ladies, I mean. You can imagine the kinky sexual encounters that are inspired by my ride, full of ice cream treats, and a giant Nutty Buddy, if you know what I’m talking about. Before I bought Generic Cialis, my rocky road seemed ready to melt-it was sort of like soft-serve ice cream now, like a once ice-hard block of tasty cream that had been left out in the harsh sun for too long. Even its nuts seemed a bit stale. Damn right I was concerned. How could I earn a living as an ice cream salesman, if I couldn’t work on the side as a gigolo? I had to be in top form to keep my demanding clients satisfied. So I ordered some Generic Cialis, and my Golden Cone was soon as crispy and creamy as it was when I was in my twenties, and just making a name for myself as an ice cream gigolo. I liked to drive through an upscale neighborhood of town-a bunch of huge, gated mansions with big cars and pools out back. Because, obviously, that’s where the highest concentration of undersexed, lonely women are to be found, whose men are too wimpy to give it to them more than once every couple of months, even if they do take Generic Cialis.

You should see those poor women run out of the house like little girls when they hear my stupid ice cream siren blaring down their street! It plays one of those corny, happy tunes, and it draws rich, lonely women to it like flies to honey. Or, should I say, like flies to a big chunk of raw tenderloin, which is what I have between my legs-and thanks to Generic Cialis, it’s as hard and long as an aircraft carrier. But also tasty, like a juicy popsicle. The ladies know that. They know I’m the best. Hell, who else are they going to turn to, the dad gum pool cleaner? The plumber? That’s just the stuff you see in movies. In real life, they know where it’s at-with the ice cream man. So, I stop my Generic Cialis ice cream pimp mobile at the curb, stick my head out of the window, my hands full of different popsicles, ice cream sandwiches, and, of course, my huge nutty buddy.

The ladies run up and surround my truck, and I hand out the ice cream treats for starters. All free, of course. It’s just smart marketing. You have to know how to approach these rich ladies-give them a freebie, draw them in, and lure them into your place of business for some great sex, with the kind of endurance only Generic Cialis can give you. Afterwards, they’ll take you to a five-star restaurant, or ask you to choose one of the cars in their garage to drive home. I’m not kidding, that actually happened once. This woman was so satisfied she could hardly walk, but out of gratitude, she took me down to her massive garage, which looked like a carpeted cave, showed me a drawer full of keys, and asked me to pick out a new ride. Wow, Generic Cialis can really open some doors for you! I joked with her that the huge black Hummer parked there might be most appropriate, since I’d earned this bonus by parking my huge Hummer in her little pink carport. She agreed. “Won’t your husband care?” “Nope, he might not even notice. In any case I’ll order another one tonight.” Alrighty then! I took the keys, gave her a kiss, and drove off into the sunset. Thanks a million, Generic Cialis!

Lately I’ve been sharing my horrifying saga of my Generic Viagra obsessed mother-in-law, who was convinced, from the very moment of our wedding, that I would be incapable of properly satisfying her daughter. The story has been truly awful-my mother-in-law, named Beulah, is enough to make any man’s blood run cold, even to interfere with proper blood flow to his penis, and thereby lead to erectile dysfunction. Luckily, Generic Viagra can help with that. But it’s hard not to have trouble getting a rock-hard long dong when your mother-in-law is practically lying in the bed with you, like some official in a sporting event. I often had nightmares about her, sitting atop some tall chair at the side of our bed, like a tennis referee, her head looking back and forth, back and forth, as my huge erection swung around in the air, then pounded her daughter-in and out, in and out, with authoritative forehand and backhand strokes. I hardly needed any Generic Viagra to do the deed back in those early days of our marriage! But no matter what I did, those nightmares continued-I’d dream I was having sex with my wife, and I’d look over to see my mother-in-law atop her tennis chair, shouting “Foot fault! Foot fault! Love 45! Game, set, match!”

I guess it all began when I learned, even before the wedding, that Beulah mixed Generic Viagra into her husband’s food, just to get his poor, shriveled schlang hard enough for her to mount. The very idea seemed grotesque-like imagining some rodeo bull riding the cowboy! But if it was bad when we first got married, and I was actually still banging my wife the way I did on our first date, you can imagine how bad it got when the years and stress at work caught up with me, and I began suffering from erectile dysfunction! My wife begged me to order Generic Viagra, and, alas, at some point, she mentioned it to her dear mother. I have to admit, I didn’t realize how much truth there was to the old bag’s words about “the women in her line,” until I started having problems. My wife needed sex, and she needed it bad! So of course, she went running to mommy! Not for sex of course, you sickos! For Generic Viagra! She knew I would be too stubborn to admit I had a problem and order some myself, so she ran off to consult with mother dearest. Of course, old Beulah was more than willing to share her stash, which she kept in a big container in the kitchen, marked “sugar.” She also shared some recipes. My wife, luckily, said we’d follow the advice on the Generic Viagra box, and simply take a pill the normal way, an hour or so before we got it on.

Yes, when my mother-in-law heard that I was floppy and flaccid as an old garden hose, and needed Generic Viagra, she was scandalized. It was as if I’d committed some act of criminal negligence-sexual negligence of her precious daughter, who, she was sure, had inherited “her mother’s nymphomania, which had been in her line for generations.” Why hadn’t I asked for some Generic Viagra sooner? These were among the questions she gave me when she came with her daughter to my doorstep, to deliver my erectile dysfunction treatment, and to share some sex tips. But her ridiculous sex tips are a good topic for another story, guys. Until then, take my advice, and pick up some Generic Viagra. It’ll plug up your wife, and shut up your mother-in-law!

Hard to believe that there was a time with no Generic Viagra, isn’t it? Last night I actually went to my twenty-year high school reunion, which had an 80s retro theme. Boy, do I miss the 80s. You know, the days when I had big hair, and big erections whenever I wanted them-heck, even when I didn’t want them! Not only was I “Hot for Teacher,” I had several girls back then as well, and gently taught them which end was up. Fast-forward twenty years, and my Dexy’s Midnight Runner had ran out, and I knew that soon it’d be time to take drastic measures, and feed the little guy some Generic Viagra. Luckily, I’m still not married; I’ve always been a bit of a swinger, even since my coming-of-age back in the Decade of Greed, when my blood-engorged Billy Idol was banging every Psychedelic Fur in the neighborhood. Here’s how things would go down, back in the day, before I dreamed of needing Generic Viagra. When I got a girl in the back of my car, first I’d finger her Soft Cell, then I’d Robert Palmer, then and then I’d Wham! her for an hour or so, then I’d pull out my Def Leppard and pour some sugar on her Blondie. I’m not completely sure what all that just meant, but you get the picture!

Now I was all grown up, with a mortgage and an erectile dysfunction problem, and no Generic Viagra to help me, even though it was only a matter of going on line and ordering the stuff. I’d been in denial about it for several months, but with one embarrassing sexual debacle after another, I was clearly in Dire Straits. My little Kenny Loggins hadn’t been his long, hard self for longer than I cared to remember. As the high school reunion was approaching, though, I decided to do myself a favor and get some Generic Viagra – because I fully expected to encounter some of my old high school flames at the big event, and reacquaint them with my Talking Head. I was especially hoping to meet Debbie G., a former classmate of mine who’s Raspberry Beret I’d taken off back senior year, during the prom (even though she was someone else’s date). If all it took to return my old sexual prowess was ordering Generic Viagra, I was prepared to do that. I went online and had the good delivered in a couple of days, and popped some of the stuff just as I parked the car in front of the old high school gym.

Wasn’t long, with the Devo blaring, until I found Debbie G. in the crowd. She had big hair and lots of fluorescent pink clothing. I had a Generic Viagra erection to beat the band-yes, the years had been kind to her, from where I stood. But I was more interested in how she was doing below the equator. “How’ve the years treated your Blondie?” I asked. She licked her cherry-red, glossy lips suggestively, and said, “That’s Deborah Harry to you now, mister. All grown up. How’s your Don Johnson?”

I plunged my Alan Parsons Project into her Kate Bush, and Bangled her for an hour or three, and Generic Viagra didn’t let me down. My Bruce Hornsby was hard enough to last through two encores, and diddled on her organ with impeccable songmanship. My Prince pushed her Little Red Corvette into overdrive, then finally poured some Roxy Music all over her body. “You twisted my sister!” she sighed. I didn’t volunteer that I’d had some help from Generic Viagra. Why should I? All it had done for me was restore my natural ability-the same rock-hard erections I’d had as an adolescent. Granted, they didn’t last 24 hours anymore. But hey, I’d outgrown that!

It’s Cowboy Dick here, with a stupefying story of what Generic Viagra can do for a man with a little problem dangling useless between his legs. I don’t matter if you’re a grizzled old rodeo rider like me, who’s done fell of one too many bulls, or if you’re a strapping young man with his whole like ahead of him. If you’re stressed, or overworked, or who knows what else, you can start having something smart people call erectile dysfunction, which is the biggest word that’s ever passed my chapped lips. Then, Generic Viagra can be your best bet. Don’t go down like Custer-don’t try to be a hero. Don’t be a martyr to sexual disorder, and become a wandering cowboy poet or something, lamenting your sorry state, or singing of past triumphs in the sack. Buck up, cowboy-your best triumphs may be ahead of you yet, if you get some Generic Viagra to tote with you. Then you can swaller some whenever you see a cute lass who needs a good, long ride to cheer her up a little.

I’ve told y’all already how my erectile dysfunction started, and how some smart-aleck from Santa Fe told me how he’d bought some of this Generic Viagra stuff there in the big city. You see, I’m just plain ignorant, and I didn’t even know stuff like this existed. I didn’t even know what erectile dysfunction was, until all of a sudden my Jesse James keeled over like a sick cow and wouldn’t get up for love nor money. I didn’t know what to do, until I found out about Generic Viagra. Funny thing, this smart aleck said maybe my erectile dysfunction was from sitting in the saddle too long. He said I was so bowlegged that maybe I was bowpenised too. I told him he was full of it and liked to of shot him dead right there, if he hadn’t of been so helpful in giving me a sample of Generic Viagra from Santa Fe. He said some rhinestone cowboys from the big city had had the same problems from riding bicycles too long-he said sitting like that could damage your crotch and give you man problems. Said he’d read it in the newspaper. Riding bicycles? I’d never heard of grown men riding around town on bicycles. Me, I rode into town on my bull-and on my horse on Sundays, just to be more proper. I said that his city ways weren’t my ways. But that I’d give his Generic Viagra a try, because my Dead Eye Dick was in a bad way, and little Suzy, back at the homestead, was pining for my Big Chief Throbbing Horse.

You should’ve seen the look on Suzy’s face when I rode home to the homeplace with my package of Generic Viagra under my arms. I didn’t even try to hide it from her, because I wasn’t sure exactly what to do with it-cook it up with some tortillas and eat it, or make a paste of it and spread it all over my big hairy peacemaker. She laughed at my stupid ignorance, and told me to swaller some of it. I asked if I could wash it down with some whiskey, and she said, naw, it’s be better to go without alcohol, frankly. So I did what she said. Long story short, the Generic Viagra worked. It didn’t taste like much, but once it got inside me, it was like a swarm of bees in my saddlesack. My old rattler came out from under its rock and slipped into Suzy’s panties, looking for a mouse.

I’ve got a sports-related Generic Viagra story. My girlfriend has a thing for rugby. I guess she’s cosmopolitan like that-since I’m an American football fanatic, the fact that she appreciates the finer points of rugby makes her more culturally sophisticated than I am. And hey, I’m cool with that. Or, I was, back when I was secure about my manhood, and didn’t think I’d ever have to order any Generic Viagra. Once I started having erectile dysfunction problems, my pigskin was feeling quite deflated, and I began to feel a sense of jealousy as I watched her watching those rugby players on TV. I saw that look in her eyes as she watched those dirty, muscular “chaps” in the shorts mucking it around in a scrum… then all of a sudden the ball would squirt out, like one of the just laid an egg, and finally some action would start. I suppose it was good that she had something to entertain her on TV, because there wasn’t much entertainment in the bedroom, with no Generic Viagra. I knew I needed to order some, and show her the true meaning of the American gridiron, but I kept putting it off. I figured that if I just exercised more, and showed a little strength of will, that my piledriver would magically awaken, and start pounding her the way it used to. But somehow it seemed that a Generic Viagra order would be like an admission of defeat.

So, I kept procrastinating, and she kept watching those muddy blokes from New Zealand and England and who bloody knows what other countries where they talk with accents. I knew that until I got some Generic Viagra and got down and dirty in the scrum like those guys did, that I’d be nothing but another football-watching American ignoramus in her eyes. She said that rugby was a sport for thugs that was played by gentlemen, as if to imply that I wasn’t a gentleman. What she really meant was that she wanted her gentleman to treat her like a thug in the next bedroom scrum. I sensed an ultimatum, and finally ordered my Generic Viagra; within a matter of days, it was waiting on my doorstep one day after work. Knowing that my special lady would be visiting soon (to watch some rugby game on a cable channel no one had heard of), I took some of my performance-enhancing Generic Viagra, and waited to welcome her.

When she arrived, she found me in the backyard, which, luckily, was well-concealed from the neighbors with a tall fence. I’d spent several hours raking up the grass and sprinkling it with the garden hose, to make it as muddy as possible. She saw me there, with a beastly Generic Viagra erection, no clothes on whatsoever (just a towel that I was planning to wipe off with before insertion), and an American football under my arm. “Honey!’ she shrieked, “I like what I’m seeing!” “Come feel it then,” I said, throwing down the gauntlet, confident that Generic Viagra would keep me hard until the job was done. She tossed off her clothes and dived right into the mud with me, sliding around and giggling, until finally, I slid into her, bending her over my trust lawn chair. An hour or so later into this Generic Viagra sex romp, we had moved to the bedroom; the white sheets were covered in mud, and she was covered in… well, you get the picture. We agreed that both rugby and football were noble games, both played by true gentlemen. Then I got my second wind, and gave it to her smash-mouth style.

Hello again, guys! It’s me, Bill. Or “William the Conqueror,” as my wife now calls me, back from the Grand Tour of Europe and submitting the next in a series of reports on my Generic Viagra inspired anniversary sex romp with my wife. And these aren’t just “fishing stories,” guys-this is Generic Viagra can really do. It can sustain you not just for a single night, but for weeks on end, giving you that regular sex life you used to enjoy when you were bit younger. What I noticed especially during this sustained silver anniversary sexcapade was how flexible Generic Viagra is. My manhood certainly wasn’t flexible, by the way-it was downright unbending. But only when I wanted it to be. I’d take Generic Viagra, say, after a meal in the evening, when I knew we’d be heading back to the hotel soon. It’d start working right away, within half an hour or so, and keep working for several hours, giving me plenty of time to finish the job in even our most extended encounters. And things proceeded very naturally, too. Some guys think you swallow some Generic Viagra, and five minutes later, you have a raging hard-on and are ready to pound anything that moves (or doesn’t!). Calm down, men of the world! Generic Viagra simply allows you to get aroused when you’re… aroused. As they say, the angle of the dangle is still directly proportionate to the heat of the meat. And honestly, my wife of ten years was suddenly looking pretty hot to me, even as we touched down in Paris. I guess a change of locations can work wonders.

Well, I’ve related already how we “renewed our vows” in the bedroom of our Paris hotel. Three days later, we headed for Germany, where, for three more days, she continued to explore my Fatherland, as she put it. And she immediately started calling me Wilhelm Meister, you know, from the famous Bildungsroman by Goethe, the German Shakespeare. I told her that her nicknames were getting out of control. But, I was indeed the Master, thanks to my Generic Viagra. Anyway, we set off on a Rhein river cruise, to admire some of the castles you can see on the rocky shores-some of them restored, many of them in ruins. She sat beside me on board our ship, talking dirty to me. She said I was in ruins before Generic Viagra erected me once again. How right she was! Then she started in with the Grimm’s fairy tales. She said she often felt like Rapunzel, sitting atop my tower, unable to get down. I told her that if she couldn’t get down, she should get off. “With pleasure!” And she dragged me off to our cabin. Luckily, I’d taken some Generic Viagra that morning, because I could sense a sexual collision of Wagnerian proportions approaching.

She dragged me back to our cabin-as it so happened, Cabin No. 6, which, of course, is pronounced “sechs” in German. My wife got plenty of mileage out of that one. She tore my clothes off, like the college girl she was when I first met her, and extracted my Schwarzwald from my boxer shorts. That’s German for “Black Forest,” guys. Her fingers began wandering into this dark, forbidding region, until they encountered a towering, gnarly old tree (thanks, Generic Viagra!). She climbed it, and stayed there until she got off. What more can I say? I highly recommend using Generic Viagra on a cruise of this sort. It’s nice to look out the porthole and watch those castles float past, while you’re getting Medieval on your wife, and falling in love with her all over again. There, I can’t believe I said it. I sound like a woman, using language like that. But hey, we were all over each other, like a couple of kids. Generic Viagra had definitely worked wonders.