George Spencer, que dirigio una exelente pelicula impovisacional basada en un dialogo entre Sally Hemings, Thomas Jefferson, y el Marquez de Sade y donde
participa el bother Robert Roth, comparte un relato sobre la sexualidad y el poder anclado en la narrativa popular y oral sobre el sexo en situaciones limite, que revela el absurdo y el abismo existencial que suele acompanar al poder de simpaticos personajes que a veces los tenemos hasta en la sopa. George solia vivir en Ecuador por temporadas de seis meses. Para los interesados, ponemos el enlace del video al final de esta entrega
They even spied on El Presidente
By George Spencer
In this blasphemous city there is a street that has seven churches. It is near the spot where they castrated and burned Alfonzo Alcid (1842-1912), the first true leader of the poor who have always been mislead and oppressed by the aristocratic trinity of church, military and hacienda owners. These rich and powerful seemed to come from one big fractious family that always settled its ecclesiastical, land, and other disputes in a discrete way that maximized the glory of the winners and minimized the losses of the losers. Yet there were exceptions.
Oddly in this land of the caudillo and the testicular rights that came with being of the stronger sex, the most powerful person in the country is, and has been, since the unseemly death of Alcid, the wife of the current maximum leader. She has the voice of a relaxing bullfrog or as it was called in a later age, a whisky tenor. Her hands trembled until she had her first drink at 11am. From then she drank like a man. All day she was one.
She expected not only circumspection but subtly in the art of love. There were few she found adequate and fewer still better than adequate. It was known to aficionados of such matters that her husband, Maximum Leader and El Presidente, did not meet her expectations.
El Presidente was impeccable, spending two hours each morning preparing for his official duties. He sat at a desk on a chair larger than himself as if on cushions of air, his feet barely brushing the floor, his white haired head nodding either in thought or sleep.
Yet even as El Presidente he suffered. This country, rich in bananas, rice, sugar, coffee and fruit of the sea appeared a war zone with cannon ball like holes in the roads that were slowly filling with refuse. His big car, an imported Mercedes Benz once owned by a lesser European royal, was buffed by obreros each day until it shown like the very gold on the swords of Inca warriors. Sadly he could only tour small parts of his country because of the potholes while his wife, from the presidential palace, ruled.
Her husband, El Presidente and el caudillo, had never been a healthy man. In any event under her guidance, he wished to be remembered as an enlightened force in his country’s history. Yet he was the ultimate protector of certain criminal elements involved in the drug trade. In addition to money, these drug lords supplied him with young girls. While at first he rejected these opportunities he soon came to believe he would be kinder to these young things than the average traficante . There was one young girl that fascinated him. This young lady of the night shadows convinced him that sex in its immediate and rawest aspects was below him. She preferred to talk with him, to get to know him. No other woman had moved him in this way. These were emotions he was unfamiliar with. In addition he had never met a cock-teaser before and didn’t know he was, so to speak, in the hands of one.
After an appropriate amount of romance and to his great happiness he found himself making love to her. That her breast was smaller than he expected, this quickly disappeared from his thoughts as she fondled him through his presidential pants that had an elaborate design down the sides, a mixture of silk and gold thread not unlike the pants of a matador. Soon she had his hard but small penis in her mouth. He knew from common gossip that this was routine practice in the prostibulos of the capitol but not in the Christian marital bed. Though his experience in prostibulos and the marital bed was limited, it seemed to him that heaven had never been closer to the Plaza Real. He was soon shedding her clothes. During this process it is not uncommon for men to have a blurred view of what is being revealed as a brassiere discloses and releases into a stage of true ripeness that which had previously only been hinted at. He slipped down her panties a centimeter at a time. He was a patient man. She was giggling. He thought with pleasure. Like all men he believed that any sound a woman makes in these circumstances is the result of his infinitely intricate lovemaking. After a certain number of centimeters his surprise was great when he was confronted with a cock that jumped out at him like it was hinged or controlled by a spring mechanism. His mouth opened in shock. It was impossible to tell from the video whether he was horrified or delighted.
The angle at which this was being videoed made it appear that his open mouth was either approaching or receding from the greatest surprise of his life. I need not tell you about his downfall other than to say that it was fast, fatal and forever. In this most religious of countries and after extended negotiations with the Papal Nuncio an annulment of the 15-year marriage was finalized on the grounds of non-performance of the manly marital obligation. She became the first woman ruler of a South American country. Whatever other settlement might have been extracted from the now dead President was not generally known.
A tastefully edited version of the video is available on You Tube. The raw video is said to be in the hands of various groups dedicated to our safety.