From Russia with Lust: Touring Moscow with Generic Viagra

It's William the Conqueror, here with more triumphant sex stories from my Grand Tour of Europe. Sure, those who aren't familiar with my work might assume that I got my hands on some Generic Viagra and went off for a mid-life crisis tour of the Old World, banging girls I met in the bars of every European capital. Sorry to disappoint you, but it's not like that at all. After all, this was my silver anniversary trip with my wife, and I ordered the Generic Viagra especially in time for it, in a desperate attempt to overcome my little erectile dysfunction problem. Needless to say, it worked. It's all about blood flow, and my hot, rejuvenated blood was flowing down every inch of me, pumping it up to a rock-hard, bright red dragonslayer. After conquering Paris, Munich, Cairo, Rome, Athens, and Prague, it was time to move further east, to wintry Russia. As we prepared to leave, my wife told me that my Mr. Johnson already looked like he was wearing one of those fur hats, with the ear-flaps down. She said that since we'd begun feeding him Generic Viagra, he'd become a regular Siberian bear. We touched down in Moscow and were greeted with that fine city's official seal, which shows St. George spearing a dragon with his long lance. I could sure relate to that. Nietzsche wrote that women were like a flower-covered cave when young-but that later, a dragon emerges. How right he was! I remember the days before I ordered Generic Viagra-my wife was like a fire-breathing harpy! This is what happens when a woman is undersexed. And now, look at me-taking my wife for a hard-core sex tour of Europe. Now, she was taking her little pole-dancing routine to the very gates of Asia.

We got off of our Aeroflot plane (it was all I could do to keep from getting off on our Aeroflot plane, with my huge erection, bulging like a monumental statue of Lenin!). I'd taken some Generic Viagra with my in-flight meal, as usual, so as to be rough and ready by the time we made it to our hotel. We took a taxi and went straight there, ran to our room, and locked the door, and I fed her a big Russian sausage; afterwards, we found some vodka in our mini-bar fridge, and drank a toast with some black caviar. Here's to Generic Viagra! Then we ventured out into the snowy streets of Moscow, walking from our hotel, down Tverskaya, and right onto Red Square. My wife, the Art History major, stood gasping before the exotic onion domes of St. Basil's Cathedral; she said they were remarkably whimsical. I'd seen her gasp like that atop my exotic onion dome more than once on this trip! We decided to step into Lenin's mausoleum and have a look at the old guy. How depressing! I'm not a pinko Commie or anything, but still, it's depressing to see a man who had shaken the earth all dead and shriveled-up like that, like an old wax candle. He was tiny! It all reminded me of my manhood before Generic Viagra-back then, I was afraid I'd have to mummify it and send it to an early grave.

Luckily, though, things hadn't reached that desperate stage. I'd gotten past all of my worries and ordered the freaking Generic Viagra already. Now my manhood was throbbing, stiff, and dynamic-like our great leader, Stalin! After our visit to pay homage to Lenin, we ran across Red Square, to this huge shopping mall, where my wife tried on some Russian fur coats. Real fur, of course-just like the kind my manhood wears! Seeing her in those soft, cuddly furs made my Generic Viagra act up again. A short taxi ride, and we were back at the hotel-she in nothing but her fur coat, riding me like there was no tomorrow.