Limp Dicks and Wanton Women

My first exposure to the advertising for those "special occasion" pills worried me. Made me feel that I'm walking around with a flaccid willy absolutely terrified that Mrs S would suddenly declare the moment to be right and expect me to immediately rise to the occasion and perform to her satisfaction. And that to always be ready to satisfy Mrs S's sudden wanton need for idle distraction, I should remain in a state of semi-permanent tumescence.

Makes me think of my pets back home. Fido is all slobber and panting, so enthusiastic to anticipate and satisfy my wants and needs, eyes following my every move and ears cocked for the slightest sign to spring into frenzied action least I show disappointment at his laziness and inattentiveness. And more often than not, I ignore him. Felix on the other hand is a master of the alluring stretch, the sly inviting look and the air-caressing swish of her tail. She's learned that no mouse-trap ever pursued a mouse.

Mrs S, bless her, has never demanded that I keep a supply of blue-pills on hand and shudders at the very idea of priapism. And the simple image of me trying to be Fido has her in fits of giggles. Instead she's developed a penchant for candle-light dinners, alluring perfume and "forgetting" to get dressed properly. And face it, a woman in high-heels, G-string and pearls is a powerful incentive. And if that's not enough to add some lead to your pencil, you don't need pills. You need another woman.

These pills remind me of a scandal in Hermanus, South Africa, some years ago. A new boutique brewery drove a bill-board through the town emblazoned with the words "Beer - helping unattractive people have sex since 1652!". The resulting protest ended the campaign but not before it became obvious that the most vociferous complainants were the unattractive people!