We drank all day and that night I tried again to make love to Mindy. I was astounded and dismayed to find she had a large pussy. An extra large pussy. I hadn’t noticed it the night before. That was a tragedy. Woman’s greatest sin. I worked and I worked. Mindy lay there as if she was enjoying it. I hoped to god she was. I began to sweat. My back ached. I was dizzy, sick. Her pussy seemed to get larger. I couldn’t feel anything. It was like trying to fuck a large, loose paper bag. I was just barely touching the sides of her cunt. It was agony, it was relentless work without a reward. I felt damned. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I desperately wanted to come. It wasn’t just the drinking. I performed better than most when drinking. I heard my heart. I felt my heart. I felt it in my chest. I felt it in my throat. I felt it in my head. I couldn’t bear it. I rolled off with a gasp.

“Sorry, Mindy, Jesus Christ, I’m sorry.” “It’s all right, Hank,” she said.

I rolled over on my stomach. I stank with sweat. I got up and poured two drinks. We sat upright in bed and drank the drinks, side by side. I couldn’t understand how I had managed to come the first time. We had a problem. All that beauty, all that
gentleness, all that goodness, and we had a problem. I was unable to tell Mindy what it was. I didn’t know how to tell her she had a big cunt. Maybe nobody had ever told her.

“It will be better when I’m not drinking so much,” I told her. “Please don’t worry, Hank.”

“O.K.”

We went to sleep or we pretended to go to sleep. Finally I did. . . .