William the Conqueror here again, with more tales of my European conquests; one after another, the nations of Europe fell beneath my broadsword, thanks to the power of Generic Viagra. I'd taken some of the stuff on my silver anniversary tour of Europe-with my wife, of course, along for the ride, although I sometimes had sexual dreams at night of a strange blue-haired woman named Generic Viagra, and I'd wake up with a raging hard-on, and would be forced to wake up my wife, who, after months of an ice-cold bed, was taking everything I could dish out, with great gusto. So, sometimes, in the middle of the night during our European Tour, even after a stormy bout of sex the day before, I'd wake up inspired, and brush up against her from behind; she felt the bite of that famous broadsword, moaned, and rolled over, legs spread. With Generic Viagra, I was making love to her that was almost mythical. She pulled the covers from around my waist, stroked Jason and the Golden Fleece with admiration, and begged me to pilot my silver-sailed vessel, the Argo, into her mysterious, foggy seas. Those pills had restored proper blood flow to my marble column, turning it from the crumbling ruin it had become, back into the proud, towering edifice, high atop its rocky Acropolis, a beacon to poets and warriors around the world. Generic Viagra had made me hard as a Spartan.
As my minotaur raged in the labyrinth of our bedsheets, my wife would sometimes squeal, both delighted with and, frankly, intimidated by, my howling, hulking manhood. But she always wanted more; she continued to dream up nicknames for me and my little Agamemnon, and she'd try to dream up feats that were more and more impressive. She would challenge me to perform the 12 epic tasks of Hercules... using the god-given powers of Generic Viagra to kill her hydra, for example, or to bridle her wild mares of Diomedes. I'll never forget the night in Athens when she expressed dismay that I tended to spray my seed around the room, where it could bear no fruit. Thanks to Generic Viagra, I'd unleashed some epic loads-that's for damn sure. "But Erekticles, dear, the gods have bid you to clean my sprawling stables in a single day-can you divert your mighty, milk-white river into my Augean stables, and wash me clean? Please!" With my blue pills, I was up to the task. But I warned her to brace herself, lest she be swept away by the raging torrent, and share the fate of Pompeii. Luckily, she survived.
But the next day, it was business as usual... I wanted to perform a Generic Viagra feat that all the world-especially hotel housekeepers-would have to reckon with. After a day of Athens adventures, we returned to our hotel. "Take me home," she purred. I shut my mouth and started giving it to her hard-pretending I was some demigod, having my way with a horny Greek goddess-like Athena, for example. I had all the endurance I needed-it seemed that I was something more than a mere mortal. I performed all 12 Tasks of Hercules that night, before summoning a hot, bountiful summer rain-my wife danced in it and laughed as it continued to fall in mighty sheets. When I was done, I had glazed the entire room-everything in it, including my wife, shone white and lustrous, like a fresh donut. Generic Viagra had allowed me to fulfill this Herculean task, one that poets will sing of for millennia-The Rains of Erekticles. For months and months, my wife had languished there in our bed, dry and famished, her drought-stricken fields and once-moist valleys crying out for insemination and nourishment. But Generic Viagra was allowing me to reseed her fallow earth.