A Generic Viagra Rugby Scrum

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.