One Man’s Unsatisfied Wife Makes Him Feel like a Heel, Until He Orders Generic Cialis

Call me John Johnsonson. My girlfriend Emily had given me an ultimatum: get some Generic Cialis, or get lost. I'd been with Emily for a couple of years- and how those two years had changed me! All that work in the office had taken its toll on my performance in the bedroom- and that promotion I'd gotten at work hadn't kept me from being demoted to the couch at home. Because- I'll be blunt- Emily likes sex. If she can't have it, she's not herself. And if you can't give it to her, then you can stay out of her bed. Nevermind that that promotion of mine paid for her bed! With no Generic Cialis, it was looking as if I'd be exiled to the sofa for the foreseeable future.

But several times lately, she'd asked for it, and I'd been unable to give it. I'd come in from the bath, pull back the covers, and find her with nothing on but her stiletto heels, so long and sharp as to be mildly threatening- especially when I knew I still hadn't bought any Generic Cialis. And sure enough, when, for the hundredth time, my big Paul Bunyan refused to chop wood, she literally kicked me out of bed with that stiletto of hers- darn near split me a new one back there. Without sex, Emily was hysterical. "Go to the damn computer and order the freaking Generic Cialis already! I can't wait any more! I'm going crazy!" And she went off to the bathroom, to her new lover, Mr. Shower Nozzle, who was hung like a cyborg. And every moan of delight I heard from the shower was like a stiletto stab in my heart. A soulless household appliance was pleasuring my wife. It was hard as steel, and ejected a continuous, powerful jet stream that drove her wild. Without my Generic Cialis, though, I was softer than an old sock

Emily had been begging me every morning for months to break down and try some Generic Cialis, but I'd continued making silly promises- I'd work out more, I'd start jogging, I'd eat soy and tofu and Chinese crab grass for a month. I had some bizarre, completely illogical notions about sexual health- I thought that if I just "tried harder," I'd get harder. After months of trendy diets and workout techniques to "improve blood flow," not to mention increase size and volume and explosive power... you know what I'm talking about, guys. Compared to some of these kooky treatments out there, a respected medication like Generic Cialis suddenly seemed normal. I was sick of flexing and contracting my groin muscles there as I worked at my desk, or even kneading my man-dough in some brilliant Eastern way whenever I had a hand free! I'd be pecking at the keyboard with one hand, while I massaged my ailing pecker with the other!

But needless to say, none of this nonsense was helping the circulation down there. Emily had told me that Generic Cialis restores proper blood-flow to the big guy, and that nothing else would work. She told me to stop kidding myself. I could diet and exercise and think happy thoughts all day, and it wouldn't do anything for little Jimmy Johnson. So, what the hell, I ordered some Generic Cialis- I'd give it a chance.

I'm so glad I did. Why I waited so long to order the stuff, I have no idea. I could just kick myself in the testicles for all the procrastination. Sometime I'll tell you about that fateful dinner date when I first took my Generic Cialis and surprised Emily with my bulging, throbbing Mr. Clean. It was quite a production, let me assure you!