Dear Diary:
Oh, cursed fate to be a young widow in rural England! Bereft of husband, left with acres of land as befits my class, and to be blessed with a pair of bazongas that can melt the spectacles right off the vicar. It was at this time, Dear Diary, that Cialis once more saved me from a desolate life of countryside loneliness. One can only bonk the butler for so long.
My husband, Lord Elliott Rockthigh, had always suffered from erection issues – plus an incurable lisp that made him say, "That’s Thwilling, Your Majesty!" in front of Queen Victoria. There were rumors his lisp came from side effects of Cialis, but not true, not true! Side effects of Cialis are relatively mild, and our physician confided in me that my husband, due to generations of inbreeding, was, in fact, an idiot.
But how we loved! Many is the time I remember my husband taking his Cialis, and then fifteen minutes after his prescription treatment took effect, happily spanking me with a cricket bat and pleasuring me on his trampoline. "Oh, Felicity, talk dirty to me!" he cried. "The way you do in your smutty novels."
And I did. I described how his engorged man-root was poised above my feminine delta, how his member entered me in my vague anatomical nether region where sensuality lies over three more pages of purple description… But perhaps I have made this too vulgar.
"Cialis has saved me again!" yelled Elliott. "Longer! Firmer! Harder! And Crikey, with my boots on!"
Then came the ominous day when my Lord Rockthigh insisted that all the horses on his estate be allowed to vote. Radical peasants, offended by this move, chose a treatment of their own for him. They tricked him into thinking he was off to see an exhibition of pornographic horsey pictures, and instead buried him alive in the back glen. I’m told that for several minutes, one could hear a muffled query from beneath the grass: "Umm… I say chaps… Hello?"
To escape the tragedy, I decided the best thing to do was get away from it all. Yes, a sea voyage! Perhaps to the exotic Caribbean. A long sea voyage in the company of young, strong sailors in tight pantaloons and with muscles rippling through their shirts, ones who might never know erectile dysfunction. I booked passage that afternoon on The MS Frustrated Temptress.
Oh, cruel Fate! I was destined to glimpse a stream of seamen on board ship, but not in the way I had hoped. On The Frustrated Temptress, sailors loved the life of the sea in more ways than one.
"Well, hello, there!" said Captain Bruce, "Your dress is to die for!" I was then treated to the crew’s amateur production of a Gilbert & Sullivan musical where more than half played female parts.
Suddenly, there was a crash off the port bow, and we were boarded by pirates! Tall, masculine, decisively heterosexual pirates.
"I could see my lady’s porthole needed a good ramming!" laughed their captain, the infamous Dimbleby Highcock of The Thrusting Pillar. "You shall come with me as our prisoner for ransom! The rest of you sailors of this ship will be roped and bound severely."
"Hey, babe, do what you got to do," said Bruce with a shrug, adjusting his leather chaps.
Later, as the pirate ship sailed off, we saw The MS Frustrated Temptress burning in the distance, the crew singing its ship’s anthem "Everybody Dance Now." Then Dimbleby Highcock lifted me in his strong arms so that I straddled one of the masts. "Sitting here, you can feel the power of The Thrusting Pillar between your legs."
"I take it, sir, that as you men are pirates, I am to be stripped naked and ravished over and over again," I said with my most aristocratic pout.
"Errr, no," replied Dimbleby.
"What do you mean no?" I said, but quickly recovered my composure. "That is to say: Oh! So you are bandits of the sea but cowardly before women!"
"No, the entire crew has been struck down with erectile dysfunction," he explained. "It’s psychological. We sailed a month ago to what we thought was a nudist colony in Tahiti. It turned out to be a leper’s colony for French waiters who mocked us and used withering sarcasm. It was extremely… withering. They told us how their parts that dropped off were longer than our… Anyway, we were withered."
"But why didn’t you merely sail to one of the other islands where you could fill out prescriptions for Cialis, the wonder drug for erectile dysfunction?"
"But we’ve tried!" said Dimbleby, his fist hammering the ship rail. "We searched for generic Cialis at every one of the islands, including the really silly ones, like the island with big-nosed tall stone guys, and Treasure Island, which turns out to have only Lucky Charms."
"No, no, it can’t be generic Cialis, it has to be the real thing," I protested. "If you don’t get genuine Cialis and buy a fake treatment instead, it could prove ineffective and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?"
Cialis Goes to Sea
I realized I had to take pity on these poor wretches and open my steamer trunk full of prescription Cialis. I had to give these men back their male pride and self-esteem, I had to cure their erection health issues forthwith, no matter how many times they took advantage of me. No matter how many elaborate positions and whatever depraved erotic toy was used to bring me to unparalleled heights of ecstasy. "You do have depraved erotic toys to bring me to unparalleled heights of ecstasy, don’t you?"
"Not really," he said.
"Oh, well, I do. How many men in your crew?"
Dimbleby began to count but soon ran out of fingers. I could see that before his life as a pirate, he was a Cambridge man. "Uhhh… Forty-two," he guessed. "But a prescription treatment of Cialis would surely not grant a man stiff resolve in his privates for long."
"Cialis is an effective erectile dysfunction treatment that can last up to thirty-six hours," I said. "Which means one dose each for forty-two men… Oh, my! Do your best – I mean worst."
Then Captain Dimbleby Highcock took a step forward and rudely tore open my bodice. "My comely lass, I have not seen a pair of floaters like that since Britain’s air mattress war of 1752."
Nude, I tiptoed to the ship’s plush shag carpeting. "Shall I lie back and think of England?" I inquired.
"No, no," insisted Dimbleby. "Lie back and think of buying Cialis online!"
And so, dear Diary, that is how Cialis first came to be associated with seamen. True, true!
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