Fantasy

25 November 2008. International day of action against violence against women. Me and my switch lover the feminist poet Leonor Silvestri out for a stroll in downtown Buenos Aires. 35 degree heat. We´re discussing her controversial 31 theses entitled "who are these women the womens' movement is fighting for?" Pause in Plaza Congreso. No shade. Hot horny and frustrated I interrupt the discussion to slap her hard across the face. "You stupid bitch," I yell. "Can't you shut up for once and suck my cock?" Leonor, stunned from the slap, a tear starting to form in her eye, dips to her knees. "I'm sorry," she moans. "Please forgive me daddy. Can I suck your cock right now in front of everyone." Indeed, how had I failed to notice? Right there across the square the whole feminist movement of Buenos Aires is holding its 25 November demonstration. "Fuck," I splutter, "I'm in for it now." Feminist militants are running over yelling anti-machist curses. But all of a sudden they stop in their tracks. "Hey sisters," shouts one fierce looking butch, "wait a second ... isn't that that slag Leonor Silvestri?" "That's right sister! That dirty anarcopervert tart with her dirty theses ... let's do her!" What could I do? They let me stay to watch as the amazons stripped, beat, kicked and fucked the shit out of the gender-traitor Silvestri, mid afternoon in the middle of plaza congresso to the beating of carnival drums.