When in Rome, Do Your Wife-With Generic Viagra

William the Conqueror here, back with more Generic Viagra stories hot enough to make your bed erupt in flames. The latest nickname my wife's given me, on the latest leg of our silver anniversary European tour, is Erectus Maximus. I guess that since I brought Generic Viagra to spice up our little European getaway, it's easy to compare me to a gladiator, what with my legendary broadsword, endurance, and impeccable technique. After wowing the provincials with my battle prowess in Florence, I'm taking my game to the big show-the Coliseum in Rome! Those lions there are some big pussycats, let me tell you-those suckers can bite your head off! Well, I'm undaunted. I've been able to handle everything my wife has thrown at me-and she's throwing herself at me with incredible frequency, ever since I overcame the erectile dysfunction that had been plaguing me, and ordered some Generic Viagra especially for this romantic trip. And I'll be honest... now that my own confidence has been restored, and I'm back in the saddle, so to speak, I'm realizing just how sexy my wife still is. As I've said before, it's as if we're back in college. This is what Generic Viagra has done for our sex life.

When our overnight train arrived in Rome, I'd already taken my Generic Viagra pill with breakfast, to be ready for what I knew would go down the second we got to our hotel. Sure enough, the stuff kicked in like clockwork, and when my wife pushed me against the wall and slammed the door of our room behind us, I responded. We went at it hard for a while, and then, as had become common with our romps, we diverted ourselves with some ridiculous sex games-we've always appreciated a sense of humor in the bedroom. I pulled the white bed sheet from her body, glistening with sweat, and wrapped it about me like a toga. Alas, my fasces-the ancient Roman symbol of power, a bundle of hard rods tied around an axe-was protruding most righteously. Glory to Generic Viagra! I took a sprig of green leaves from a nearby vase of artificial flowers and made myself a laurel crown, as if I were the winner of some ancient sex Olympics (hey, doping with Generic Viagra, I was a world-beater!). I stood on the bed, in my toga and laurel wreath, bounced around a bit, then assumed a bold rhetorical pose, like Cicero. "Senatus populusque romanorum!" I declaimed. "The Senate and the people of Rome!" My wife giggled. "Penissimus clitorisque gimmemorum!" she joked. "No translation necessary!" I assured her. "Maybe I should start rationing my Generic Viagra, my Vestal Virgin?" I wondered. Our sexcapade might come to a screeching halt if my stash were depleted! "Baby, you can get that stuff all over the world-don't sweat it!" my wife said. "Hail Caesar!" I declared.

Don't misunderstand-the sun doesn't rise and set in my boxer shorts. I'd been having a blast ever since Generic Viagra had reinvigorated me. But we did experience some culture during our European vacation. We even made it to Vatican City, for some religious reflection. And I swear-not one joke about Generic Viagra crossed our lips in that holy sanctum! We even marveled at the Sistine Chapel frescoes-especially at Adam, reaching out to touch his Creator. "Did you know, honey, that the name 'Adam' actually means 'man' in Hebrew?" I asked my wife intelligently. She squinted at old Adam for a minute, and said, "He's not half the man you are, baby." I knew what she meant-Generic Viagra had allowed me to get full-sized erections-long, proud, pulsating. I felt like myself again-like Erectus Gigantissimus.