Saharan Sand Dune Frolicking with Generic Viagra

It's me, Erekticles. No, I'm not Greek, just a stupid American tourist named Bill (that's William the Conqueror to you!) whose sexual prowess, inspired by the Generic Viagra I took with me on my Grand Tour of Europe, has won me a long series of exotic nicknames from my wife, who, after months and months of languishing in a bed with the sex life of a refrigerator, was getting it done to her like a girl waiting at the docks-night, after night, after night. Generic Viagra had given me the same freedom of movement I used to have-I could make the earth move for her anytime of day. All I had to do was take a pill a half-hour or so before I expected sexual landfall. Then, when we made contact, blood was allowed to rush into my flaccid manflesh in a natural, mighty torrent, producing an erection as monumental as the Great Pyramid. Generic Viagra had done nothing less than revive a sex life that was at death's door.

There was just one little problem. Well, not a problem-call it a minor inconvenience. My advances were becoming more daring, more public-this Generic Viagra had turned me back into a college student! I wanted more adventurous, more exotic encounters, like a real sex tourist. During the first leg of our journey, we'd limited our sex romps to the bedrooms of our five-star hotels, to train compartments in Italy, or to the cabin of our Mediterranean cruise ship. But now, Generic Viagra was inspiring me to be... more inspired. As a general rule, I decided that wherever I got an erection would be where I came. I didn't warn my wife about this new policy, however-and when she became frightened by size and length of the Great Sphinx's "tail," she put her arm around my waist-and gave me a raging Saharan hard-on in the middle of the freaking desert. Yep, turns out Generic Viagra does have side effects! I mean, generally speaking, public sex isn't always that risky-not when there's a secluded corner in a restaurant (not to mention a table to work under), or a bathroom stall, or even the seat in the back of some bus. Been there, done that-back in college, and with my wife, believe it or not! But Generic Viagra brought out the male instinct in me-and there in the desert, I learned an important military principle-that one can manufacture cover out of the slightest folds in the earth. What seems like a flat, coverless desert is full of hiding places, full of obstacles to block prying eyes. Sand dunes, of course.

This was the solution that Generic Viagra showed me: I took her back behind one of those sand dunes, and sure enough, I realized that even the pyramids were suddenly obscured behind it-I hoped my sun-obscuring Johnson would be too! I convinced myself that no other dumb tourists would show up with their cameras to take pictures of my Luxor Palace column, and unstrapped my fanny-pack full of Generic Viagra (don't laugh, if Ramses wants to wear a Pharaoh phanny-pack, he wears it). There was no need to take more-I'd popped one of those Miracle Grow pills before this excursion even began, because I was feeling naughty. Well, as anyone who's had sex on the beach knows, sand isn't all it's cracked up to be! That's not the kind of friction we're looking for! So I took of my safari hat, set it down in the little valley between sand dunes, dropped my trousers, and sat down on it. Give credit to Generic Viagra-Ramses the Second (my manhood, I mean) was bulging and pulsating. She lifted up that cute little skirt she was wearing, lowered herself carefully onto me, and rode me into the ground. Hey, let her do all the work, for once on this trip! This was perhaps the boldest encounter Generic Viagra had given us yet-except, perhaps, for the one at the Parthenon. But I could tell it was only a sign of things to come.