The Epic Generic Viagra Saga of the Turkey Baster

Let me wish a happy holiday season to all of my Generic Viagra readers out there. Peace, my brothers! You may have read my story about my miserable Thanksgiving last year, when my undersexed wife, having gone for several months without a single good pounding, embarrassed me by breaking down crying in front of the entire extended family (including my hated-and by hated, I mean dearly beloved-mother-in-law) when she took out the turkey baster to baste the turkey with. That was a classic Generic Viagra moment. I guess every guy who’s used the stuff had some straw that broke the camel’s johnson kind of moment, when all of his stubbornness and denial just flew right out the window. Well, when my wife blabbed to her precious mother about how I wasn’t sexually satisfying her, I couldn’t believe my ears. I knew I wouldn’t be able to look anyone in the face next Thanksgiving unless I tried some Generic Viagra, and gave my wife something to give thanks for over the coming year. So I ordered some of those miraculous pills that very day, just after the last football game was over, and waited patiently for it to be delivered. It was-and very discreetly!-in just a couple of days. I ripped open the package and looked at my beautiful pills. And so, I took my first Generic Viagra dose.

My wife was at the dad gum shopping mall, enjoying (if one can possible enjoy it) the first day of the holiday shopping system. What crass consumerism! I wanted to cook up something else for her to consume-and I don’t mean Thanksgiving leftovers. Long story short, when she came home from shopping, I was waiting for her on the front porch, with no clothes on (our home is secluded!). My giant Generic Viagra erection was imposing and frightening. At first, my wife let out a scream of shock. Then, she joined me on the porch swing, where I banged her for all she was worth. By the time she was done moaning, every dog in the neighborhood was howling. I’m sure they thought someone was dying. Nope, it was just la petite mort- or, “the little death,” as the French refer to orgasm. Generic Viagra had sure done the trick. I realized that I could continue taking it all year, and make my wife a very happy woman. That night, I heard her calling her mother in the next room, to assure her that I had finally fulfilled my responsibility as a man. Good grief, I thought-I’d be willing to take some Generic Viagra and pound my mother-in-law just to rid her of her complexes. On second thought, no, I wouldn’t do that! That’s just sick! But what can I say-the silly old bag needs a good stuffing.

And so it was. With Generic Viagra in my medicine cabinet, I could pop a pill anytime I sensed a sexual showdown looming, and be sure to rise to the occasion. Before I had thought that the stuff would just give you a massive hard-on for eight hours straight or something. Let’s face it, no man needs that exactly. That’s just unnatural-straight out of Frankenstein. The fact was, Generic Viagra just let me respond to stimulation naturally, the way I used to, back in college. My wife was thrilled. We had a long, happy year. And when Thanksgiving came again, we had a lot to be thankful for. But that’s another story. If you’ll keep reading, maybe you’ll come across the continuation-and my epic final confrontation with my horrible, bottom-feeding, bottom-dwelling beast of a mother-in-law.