These are my favorite parts of the Novel, The Godfather, by Mario Puzo,
1969.
      Don Corelone, notoriously straitlaced in such matters, though his
stout wife was screaming joyfully with the others, disappeared tactfully
into the house.  Seeing this, Sonny Corleone made his way to the bride's
table and sat down beside young Lucy Mancini, the maid of honor. They were
safe.  His wife was in the kitchen putting the last touches on the serving
of the wedding cake.  Sonny whispered a few words in the young girl's ear
and she rose.  Sonny waited a few minutes and then casually followed her,
stopping to talk with a guest here and there as he worked his way through
the crowd. 
     All eyes followed them.  The maid of honor, thoroughly Americanized
by three years of college, was a ripe girl who already had a "reputation."
All through the marriage rehearsals she had flirted with Sonny Corleone in
a teasing, joking way she thought was permitted because he was the best
man and her wedding partner.  Now holding her pink gown up off the ground,
Lucy Mancini went into the house, smiling with false innocence, ran
lightly up the stairs to the bathroom.  She stayed there for a few
moments.  When she came out Sonny Corleone was on the landing above,
beckoning her upward.
 [Tom] Hagen saw Sonny Corleone whisper in Lucy Mancini's ear and their
little comedy as he followed her into the house. Hagen grimaced, debated
whether to inform the Don, and decided against it.
    Out in the garden, Hagen searched anxiously for Sonny Corleone.  He
told the waiting Bonasera to be patient and went over to Michael Corleone
and his girl friend.  "Did you see Sonny around?" he asked.  Michael shook
his head.  Damn, Hagen thought, if Sonny was screwing the maid of honor
all this time there was going to be a mess of trouble.  His wife, the
young girl's family; it could be a disaster.  Anxiously he hurried to the
entrance through which he had seen Sonny disappear almost a half hour ago.
      Lucy Mancini lifted her pink gown off the floor and ran up the
steps.  Sonny Corleone's heavy Cupid face, redly obscene with winey lust,
frightened her, but she had teased him for the past week to just this end.
 In her two college love affairs she had felt nothing and neither of them
lasted more than a week.  Quarreling, her second lover had mumbled
something about her being "too big down there." Lucy had understood and
for the rest of the school term had refused to go out on any dates.
      During the summer, preparing for the wedding of her best friend,
Connie Corleone, Lucy heard the whispered stories about Sonny.  One Sunday
afternoon in the Corleone kitchen, Sonny's wife Sandra gossiped freely. 
Sandra and the other women teased Connie about the terrors of the nuptial
bed.  "My God," Sandra had giggled, "when I saw that pole of Sonny's for
the first time and realized he was going to stick it into me, I yelled
bloody murder.  After the first year my insides felt as mushy as macaroni
boiled for an hour.  When I heard he was doing the job on other girls I
went to church and lit a candle."
     They had all laughed but Lucy had felt her flesh twitching between
her legs. Now as she ran up the steps toward Sonny a tremendous flash of
desire went through her body.  On the landing Sonny grabbed her hand and
pulled her down the hall into an empty bedroom.  Her legs went weak as the
door closed behind them.  She felt Sonny's mouth on hers, his lips tasting
of burnt tobacco, bitter.  She opened her mouth.  At that moment she felt
his hand come up beneath her bridesmaid's gown, heard the rustle of
material giving way, felt his large warm hand between her legs, ripping
aside the satin panties to caress her vulva.  She put her arms around his
neck and hung there as he opened his trousers.  Then he placed both hands
beneath her bare buttocks and lifted her.  She gave a little bop in the
air so that both her legs were wrapped around his upper thighs. His tongue
was in her mouth and she sucked on it.  He gave a savage thrust that
banged her head against the door.  She felt something burning pass between
her thighs. She let her right hand drop from his neck and reached down to
guide him.  Her hand closed around an enormous, blood-gorged pole of
muscle.  It pulsated in her hand like an animal and almost weeping with
grateful ecstasy she pointed it into her own wet, turgid flesh.  The
thrust of its entering, the unbelievable pleasure made her gasp, brought
her legs up almost around his neck, and then like a quiver, her body
received the savage arrows of his lightning-like thrusts; innumerable,
torturing; arching her pelvis higher and higher until for the first time
in her life she reached a shattering climax, felt his hardness break and
then the crawly flood of semen over her thighs.
   Slowly her legs relaxed from around his body, slid down until they
reached the floor.  They leaned against each other, out of breath.
     It might have been going on for some time but now they could bear the
soft knocking on the door.  Sonny quickly buttoned his trousers, meanwhile
blocking the door so that it could not be opened.  Lucy frantically
smoothed down her pink gown, her eyes flickering, but the thing that had
given her so much pleasure was hidden inside sober black cloth.  Then they
beard Tom Hagen's voice, very low, "Sonny, you in there?"
     Sonny sighed with relief. He winked at Lucy.  "Yeah, Tom, what is
it?"
     Hagen's voice, still low, said, "The Don wants you in his office. 
Now." They could hear his footsteps as be walked  away.  Sonny waited for
a few moments, gave Lucy a hard kiss on the lips, and then slipped out the
door after Hagen.
     Lucy combed her hair.  She checked her dress and pulled around her
garter straps.  Her body felt bruised. her lips pulpy and tender.  She
went out the door and though she felt the sticky wetness between her
thighs she did not go to the bathroom to wash but ran straight on down the
steps and into the garden.  She took her seat at the bridal table next to
Connie, who exclaimed petulantly, "Lucy, where were you?  You look drunk. 
Stay beside me now." The blond groom poured Lucy a glass of wine and
smiled knowingly.  Lucy didn't care.  She lifted the grapey, dark red
juice to her parched mouth and drank.  She felt the sticky wetness between
her thighs and pressed her legs together.  Her body was trembling.  Over
the glass rim, as she drank, her eyes searched hungrily to find Sonny
Corleone.  There was no one else she cared to see.  Slyly she whispered in
Connie's ear, "Only a few hours more and you'll know what it's all about."
Connie giggled.  Lucy demurely folded her hands on the table,
treacherously triumphant, as if she had stolen a treasure from the bride.
*******
       Sonny was worried about other things.  His wife was giving him a
hard time because the rumors had gotten to her that Lucy Mancini had
bewitched her husband.  And though she joked publicly about her Sonny's
equipment and technique, he had stayed away from her too long and the
missed him in her bed, and she was making life miserable for him with her.
**************
Lucy Mancini, a year after Sonny's death, still missed him terribly,
grieved for him more fiercely than any lover in any romance.  And her
dreams were not the insipid dreams of a schoolgirl, her longings not the
longings of a devoted wife.  She was not rendered desolate by the loss of
her "life's companion," or miss him because of his stalwart character. 
She held no fond remembrances of sentimental thoughts, of girlish hero
worship, his smile, the amused glint of eyes when she said something
endearing or witty. No. She missed him for the more important reason that
he bad been the only man in the world who could make her body achieve the
act of love.   And, in her youth and innocence, she still believed that he
was the only man who could possibly do so. 
    Now a year later she sunned herself in the balmy Nevada air.  At her
feet the slender, blond young man was playing with her toes.  They were at
the side of the hotel pool for the Sunday afternoon and despite the people
all round them his hand was sliding up her bare thigh.
    "Oh, Jules, stop," Lucy said.  "I thought doctors at least weren't as
silly as other men."
    Jules grinned at her.  "I'm a Las Vegas doctor." He tickled the inside
of her thigh and was amazed how just a little thing like that could excite
her so powerfully.  It showed on her face though she tried to hide it. 
She was  really a very primitive, innocent girl.  Then why could he make
her come across?  He had to figure that one out and never mind the crap
about a lost love that could never be replaced.  This was living tissue
here under hand and living tissue required other living tissue.   Jules
Segal decided he would make the big push tonight in his apartment.  He'd
wanted to make her come again without any trickery but if trickery there
had to be, was the man for it.  And in the interests of science, of
course.  And, besides, this poor kid was dying for it. 
     "Jules, stop, please stop," Lucy said.  Her voice was trembling 
Jules was immediately contrite.  "OK, honey,' he said. He put his head in
her lap and using her soft thighs as a pillow, he took a little nap.  He
was amused at her squirm.
     Feeling, the heat that registered from her loins and when she put her
band on his head to smooth his hair, he grasped her wrist playfully and
held it loverlike but really to feel her pulse.  It was galloping.  He'd
get her tonight and he'd solve the mystery, what the hell ever it was. 
Fully confident, Dr. Jules Segal fell asleep.
     Lucy watched the people around the pool.  She could never have
imagined her life would change so in less than two years. She never
regretted her "foolishness" at Connie Corleone's wedding.  It was the most
wonderful thing that had ever happened to her and, she lived it over again
in her dreams.  As she lived over and over in the months that followed.
     Sonny had visited her once a week, sometimes more, never less.  The
days before she saw him again her bothered her.  She was in torment. 
Their passion for each other was of the most elementary kind, undiluted by
poetry or any form of  intellectualism.  It was love of the coarsest
nature, a fleshly love, a love of tissue for opposing tissue.
     When Sonny called to her he was coming certain there was enough
liquor in the apartment and enough food for supper and breakfast because
Sonny would not leave until late the next morning.   After he had his fill
of her as she wanted her fill of him. He had his own key and when he came
in the door she was in his massive arms.  They would both be brutally
primitive.  During their first kiss the, fumbling at each other's clothing
and he would lift her in the air, and she would be wrapping her legs
around his huge thighs.  They would be making love standing up in the
foyer of her apartment as if they had to repeat their first act of love
together, and then he would carry her so to the bedroom.
     They would lie in bed making love.  They would live together in the
apartment for sixteen hours, completely naked.  She would cook for him,
enormous meals.  Sometimes he would get phone calls obviously about
business but she never even listened to the words.  She would be too busy
toying with his body, fondling it, kissing it, burying her mouth in it. 
Sometimes when he got up to get a drink and he walked by her, she couldn't
help reaching out to touch his naked body, hold him, make love to him as
if those special parts of his body were a plaything, especially
constructed, intricate but innocent toy revealing some known, but still
surprising ecstasies.  At first she had been ashamed of these excesses on
her part but soon saw that they pleased her lover, that her complete
sensual enslavement to his body flattered him.  In all this there was an
animal innocence.  They were happy together. 
un by Sonny's brother Freddie.  It was Tom Hagen who
     Now, after nearly eighteen months in Las Vegas, she was surprised to
find herself almost happy.  Some nights she dreamed about Sonny and lying
awake before dawn continued her dream with her own caresses until she
could sleep again.  She had not bad a man since.  But the life in Vegas
agreed with her.  She went swimming in the hotel pools, sailed on Lake
Mead and drove through the desert on her day off.  She became thinner and
this improved her figure.  She was still voluptuous but more in the
American than the old Italian style.  She worked in the public relations
section of the hotel as a receptionist..
she would not be bothered any further.
     It was shortly after this [] that Dr Jules Segal came to work as the
hotel physician.  He was very thin, very handsome and charming and seemed
very young to be a doctor, at least to Lucy.  She met him when a lump grew
above her wrist on her forearm.  She worried it for a few days, then one
morning went to the suite of offices in the hotel.  Two of the show girls
from the chorus line were in the waiting room, gossiping to each other. 
They had the blond peach-colored permanent Lucy always envied.  They
looked angelic.  But one of the girls was saying, "I swear if I have
another dose of the clap I'll giving up dancing."
    When Dr. Jules Segal opened his office door to motioned one of the
show girls inside, Lucy was tempted to leave,  and if it had been
something more personal and serious she would have.   Dr. Segal was
wearing slacks and an open shirt.  The horn-rimmed glasses helped and his
quiet reserved manner, but the impression he gave was an informal one, and
like many basically old-fashioned people, Lucy didn't believe that
medicine and informality mixed.
    When she finally got into his office there was something so reassuring
in his manner that all her misgivings fled.  He spoke hardly at all and
yet he was not brusque, and he took his time.
    A week later be saw her in the coffee shop and sat next to her at the
counter.  "How's the arm?" he asked. She smiled at him.  "Fine," she said.
 "You're pretty unorthodox but you're pretty good."
    He grinned at her.  "You don't know how unorthodox I am.  And I didn't
know how rich you were.  The Vegas Sun just published the list of point
owners in the hotel and Lucy Mancini has a big ten points.  I could have
made a fortune on that little bump."
    She didn't answer him, suddenly reminded of Hagen's warnings.  He
grinned again.  "Don't worry, I know the score, you're just one of the
dummies, Vegas is full of them.  How about seeing one of the shows with me
tonight and I'll buy you dinner.  I'll even buy you some roulette chips."
    She was a little doubtful.  He urged her.  Finally she said, "I'd like
to come but I'm afraid you might be disappointed by how the night ends. 
I'm not really a swinger like most of the girls here in Vegas."
    "That's why I asked you," Jules said cheerfully.  "I've prescribed a
night's rest for myself."
    Lucy smiled at him and said a little sadly, "Is it that obvious?" He
shook his head and she said, "OK, supper and then, but I'll buy my own
roulette chips."
    They went to the supper show and Jules kept her amused by describing
different types of bare thighs and breasts in medical terms; but without
sneering, all in good humor.  Afterward they played roulette together at
the same wheel and won over a hundred dollars.  Still later they drove up
to Boulder Dam in the moonlight and he tried to make love to her but when
she resisted after a few kisses he knew that she really meant no and
stopped. 
  Again he took his defeat with great good humor.  "I told you I
wouldn't," Lucy said with half-guilty reproach.
    "You would have been awfully insulted if I didn't even try," Jules
said.  And she had to laugh because it was true.
    The next few months they became best friends.  It wasn't love because
they didn't make love, Lucy wouldn't let him.  She could see he was
puzzled by her refusal but not hurt the way most men would be and that
made her trust him even more.  She found out that beneath his professional
doctor's exterior he was wildly fun-loving and reckless.  On weekends he
drove a souped-up MG in the California races.  When he took a vacation he
went down into the interior of Mexico, the real wild country, he told her,
where strangers were murdered for their shoes and life was as primitive as
a thousand years ago.  Quite accidentally she learned that he was a
surgeon and been connected with a famous hospital in New York.
    All this made her more puzzled than ever at why he had taken the job
at the hotel.  When she asked him about it, Jules said, "You tell me your
dark secret and I'll tell you mine."
    She blushed and let the matter drop.  Jules didn't pursue it either
and their relationship continued, a warm friend.
   Now, sitting at the side of the pool with Jules' blond head in her lap,
she felt an overwhelming tenderness for him.  Her loins ached and without
realizing it her fingers sensuously stroked the skin of his neck.  He
seemed to be sleeping, not noticing, and she became excited just by the
feel of him against her.  Suddenly he raised his head from her lap and
stood up.  He took her by the hand and led her over the grass on to the
cement walk.  She followed him dutifully even when he led her into one of
the cottages that held his private apartment.  When they were inside he
fixed them both big drinks.  After the blazing sun and her own sensuous
thoughts the drink went to her head and made her dizzy.  Then Jules had
his arms around her and their bodies, naked except for scanty bathing
suits, were pressed against each other.  Lucy was murmuring "Don't," but
there was no conviction in her voice any more.  Jules paid no attention to
her.  He quickly stripped her bathing bra off so that he could fondle her
heavy breasts, kissed them and then stripped off her bathing trunks and 
as he did so kept kissing her body, her rounded belly and the insides of
her thighs.  He stood up, struggling out of his own bathing shorts and
embracing her, and then, naked in each other's arms, they were lying on
his bed and she could feel him entering her and it was enough, just the
slight touch, for her to reach her climax and then in the second afterward
she could read in the motions of his body, his surprise.  She felt the
overwhelming shame she had felt before she knew Sonny, but Jules was
twisting her body over the edge of the bed, positioning her legs a certain
way and she let him control her limbs and her body, and then be was
entering her again and kissing her and this time she could feel him but
more important she could tell that he was feeling something too and coming
to his climax.
    When he rolled off her body, Lucy huddled into one corer of the bed
and began to cry.  She felt so ashamed.  And then she was shockingly
surprised to hear Jules laugh and flatly and say, "You poor benighted
Eye-talian girl, so that's why you kept refusing me all these months?  You
'.,,,,dope." He said "you dope" with such friendly affection that she
turned toward him and he took her naked body against his saying, "You are
medieval, you are positively medieval." But the voice was soothingly
comforting as she continued to weep.
    Jules lit a cigarette and put it in her mouth so that she choked on
the smoke and had to stop crying.  "Now listen to me," he said, "if you
had had a decent modern raising with a family culture that was part of the
twentieth century your problem would have been solved years ago. Now let
me tell you what your problem is: it's not the equivalent of being ugly,
of having bad skin and squinty eyes that facial surgery really doesn't
solve.  Your problem is like having a wart or a mole on your chin, or an
improperly formed ear.  Stop thinking of it in sexual terms.  Stop
thinking in your head that you have a big box no man can love because it
won't give his penis the necessary friction.
  What you have is a pelvic malformation and what we surgeons call a
weakening of the pelvic floor.  It usually comes after child-bearing but
it can be simply bad bone structure. It's a common condition and many
women live a life of misery because of it when a simple operation could
fix them up. Some women even commit suicide because of it.  But I never
figured you for that condition because you have such a beautiful body.  I
thought it was psychological, since I know your story, you told it to me
often enough, you and Sonny.  But let me give you a thorough physical
examination and I can tell you just exactly how much work will have to be
done.  Now go in and take a shower."
    Lucy went in and took her shower.  Patiently and over her protests,
Jules made her lie on the bed, legs spread apart.  He had an extra
doctor's bag in his apartment and it was open.  He also had a small
glass-topped table by the bed which held some other instruments.  He was
all business now, examining her, sticking his fingers inside her and
moving them around.  She was beginning to feel humiliated when he kissed
her on the navel and said, almost absentmindedly, "First time I've enjoyed
my work." Then he flipped her over and thrust a finger in her rectum,
feeling around, but his other hand was stroking her neck affectionately. 
When he was finished he turned her right-side up again, kissed her
tenderly on the mouth and said, "Baby, I'm going to build you a whole new
thing there, and then I'll try it out personally.  It will medical first,
I'll be able to write a paper on it for the official journals."
    Jules did everything with such good-humored affection, be so obviously
cared for her, that Lucy got over her shame and embarrassment.  He even
had the medical textbook down off its shelf to show her a case like her,
own and the surgical procedure to correct it.  She found herself quite
interested. 
   "It's a health thing too," Jules said.  "If you don't get it corrected
you're going to have a hell of a lot of trouble later on with your whole
plumbing system.  The structure becomes progressively weaker unless it's
corrected by surgery.  It's a damn shame that old-fashioned prudery keeps
a lot of doctors from properly diagnosing and correcting the situation,
and a lot of women from complaining about it."
    "Don't talk about it, please don't talk about it," Lucy said.
    He could see that she was still to some extent ashamed of her secret,
embarrassed by her "ugly defect." Though to his medically trained mind
this seemed the height of silliness, he was sensitive enough to identify
with her.  It also put him on the right track to making her feel better. 
     "Think of it as a piece of elastic in your body that has lost its
elasticity," Jules said.  "By cutting out a piece, you make it tighter,
snappier."
     "I'll think about it," Lucy said, but she was sure she was going to
go through with it, she trusted Jules absolutely. 
..  "I haven't the facilities here for surgery like that and I'm not the
expert at it.  But I have a friend in Los Angeles who's the best in the
field and has facilities in the best hospital.  In fact be tightens up all
the movie stars, when those dames find out that getting their faces and
breasts lifted isn't the whole answer to making a man love them.  He owes
me a few favors so it won't cost anything.  Listen, if it weren't
unethical I'd tell you the names of some of the movie sex queens who have
had the operation."
     Lucy felt an overwhelming affection to him for being so kind and she
was able to say, "You don't have to sleep with me, you know you won't
enjoy it the way I am."
     Jules burst out laughing.  "You dope, you incredible dope.  Didn't
you ever hear of any other way of making love, far more ancient, far more
creative.  Are you really that innocent?"
    "Oh that," she said.
    "Oh that," he mimicked her.  "Nice girls don't do it. Manly men don't
do that.  Even in the year 1948,  baby, I can take you to the house of a
little old lady here in Las Vegas who was the youngest madam of the most
popular whorehouse in the wild west days, back in 1880, I think it was. 
She likes to talk about the old times. You know what she told me?  That
those gunslingers, manly, virile, straight-shooting cowboys would always
ask the girls for a 'French,' what we doctors call fellatio, you call 'oh
that.' Did you ever think of doing that with your beloved Sonny?"
    For the first time she truly surprised him.  She turned on him with
what he could think of only as a Mona Lisa smile (his scientific mind
immediately darting off on a tangent, could this be the solving of that
centuries-old mystery?) and said quietly, "I did everything with Sonny."
It was the first time she had ever admitted anything like that to anyone.
   Two weeks later Jules Segal stood in the operating room of the Los
Angeles hospital and watched his friend Dr. Frederick Kellner perform the
specialty.  Before Lucy was put under anesthesia, Jules leaned over and
whispered, "I told him you were my special girl so he's going to put in
some real tight walls." But the preliminary pain-killer had already made
her dopey and she didn't laugh or smile. His teasing remark did take away
some of the terror of the operation.
   Dr. Kellner made his incision with the confidence of a pool shark
making an easy shot.  The technique of any operation to strengthen the
pelvic floor required the accomplishment of two objectives.  The
musculofibrous pelvic sling had to be shortened so that the slack was
taken up. And of course the vaginal opening, the weak spot itself in the
pelvic floor, had to be brought forward, brought under the pubic arch and
so relieved from the line of direct pressure above.  Repairing the pelvic
sling was called perincorrhaphy.  Suturing the vaginal wall was called
colporrhaphy.
wrong.
     Kellner was trimming away the excess vaginal wall, tying the
fastening-down stitch to close the "bite" taken of the tissue of the
redundant angle, insuring that no troublesome projections would form. 
Kellner was trying to insert three fingers into the narrowed opening of
the opening, then two.  He just managed to get two fingers in, probing
deeply and for a moment he looked up at Jules and his china-blue eyes over
the gauze mask twinkled as though asking if that was narrow enough.  Then
he was busy again with his sutures.