I have been seeing the KY Enhanced or whatever name they have which are supposed to have some sort of essence to “augment” the pleasure during intercourse. That reminded me of something that happened to a friend of mine when he tried to impress a girlfriend.

We called our buddy John a (pardon the expression) “pussy hummingbird”: He would go from good-looking girl to good-looking girl spreading his charm  (and some other stuff I will not explain), never settling down. Every month or two was a new one and to no one’s surprise, it was the women who dumped him because, let’s face it, John was not stable-relationship material.

The gang used to gather at a local cafe at least once a week just to touch base and keep each other appraised of our doings. I was the first one to get married and the Missus would come to the gatherings so I did not have stories to tell. My buddies believed that my Gringa wife did not speak the language* and were quite open about their coming and goings so the conversation themes sometimes got quite raunchy.

One time John commented that his latest conquest was great looking but he was having trouble making her happy as she demanded to be “impressed” every time the went for the bed-sheets and he was running out of ideas. Now this is Venezuela where you could not find but one porno shop in the whole capital city of Caracas and they charged a premium for the merchandise. John was a damned cheapskate so toys and other marital aids were negated.

After about an hour of give and take by those present, I pulled out a small can of Tiger balm and tossed it to him: “Use this and you will rock her world.” Said I with confidence. “Just dab a very small touch on index finger, then rub gently on the top of your ‘richard’ and be ready for the greatest experience you’ll ever have.”
“Are you sure?” Looking at me, then looking at my bride (who played dumb beautifully) and then back at me.
“Sure. Just follow the instructions I gave you.” Said all with self-assurance.

Now, if you haven’t used Tiger Balm menthol, let me tell you this: It is strong. Not BenGay strong, not IcyHot strong but “Oh dear Zeus, stop hitting me with your lightning bolts! I shall behave and butcher a calf in your honor” strong. The red can above is about the diameter of a quarter, that should give you an idea about how concentrated that crap is. I use it for muscular pain and a little bit in boiling water will help you clear your lungs from the flu crud. A true fanatic using that thing almost every day will take about 8-12 months to consume. Normal people have the small same can for years.

Well, John disappeared from the face of the Earth for a good six months. We called, he didn’t pick up. We left messages in his machine, he didn’t return them. He was kind of “sensitive” jackass sometimes and would play the “I am not talking to you” game, so we didn’t care because we also knew he would come back to us eventually.

And he did. He showed up one night at the cafe with daggers for eyes and looking at me. “You are a motherf*****g asshole!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Tiger balm!” he replied. I just blinked, I already forgot about the thing. “You almost killed me and my date!”
“Dude I don’t know what you are talking about. Sit down and make some sense.” Somebody offered

So he did and he told what happened. He had a wonderful night with the lady mentioned above. Dinner, dancing & romancing with the night ending at a local hotel for a night of sexual debauchery. As they were ready to do the deed, he reached for the Tiger balm but, instead of following the instructions (which by the way were bogus to begin with. Don’t put that crap where is really sensitive) he figured that if a little was good, a shitload was “gooder” so he dabbed half the can over Mr. Johnson  and then went in for the kill.

He said that during the first 10 seconds, it felt warm and tingly and apparently the lady felt the same. But soon enough went from warm and tingly to volcanic lava with pyroclastic flow and it would not stop getting worse. She got him off her body and screamed while reaching for the ice bucket. Where the ice went, I need not to tell you. He jumped in the shower and opened the hot water first, mistake that he paid dearly with more pain. he corrected to cold, but to no avail.

Short story, the screaming coming from the room made the adjacent neighbors call security who went in the room and found both victims rolling around in pain. The appropriate authorities and rescue personnel were called. The romantic night ended up in the Emergency Room while practitioners of the medical arts manipulated the genitals with assorted medications, salves and ointments to reduce the pain and swelling.

By this part of the story, we were all literally laughing ourselves into tears and falling off chairs. One of our asshole friends asked John if she was still going out with the dame since sure as shit that was a date she would never forget. John huffed something along the lines of “That’s was not funny,”  got up and again disappeared for another six months.

We did send him a Christmas gift that year. But because you know the kind of person I am, I don’t have to tell you it was small, red in color and with a powerful smell of camphor.

And as much comfort that the balm has given me over the years,I have to say this was the most enjoyment I ever got out of that little red can.

*The missus learned the language and was fluent in less than six months. Nobody figured it for about three years. To say she had (and has) material to blackmail the shit out of my buddies for life does not begin to cover it)