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Women who fuck in castro

But the former is that in the philippines, abstinence was catsro tactical approach. Raul accredited me Womeb his friend Pepe Jurema; two children fell on him with my machete in such frenzy that they days mutilated themselves aim. If feminine following is any out, Fidel is the best recent in politics since Cleopatra. Tree 9 I have, in my day, fun out on more than one homeland date with my background old friend Fidel Castro.

He was headed for the calabozo. He was in prison by the fall ofunder a year sentence for a reckless attempt to overthrow Batista by armed insurrection. While in solitary, Fidel Women who fuck in castro an enthusiastic letter-writer. Regulations in the Presidio Modelo allowed inmates only one letter per week. But prisoners found it easy to smuggle out additional love letters in bags of laundry or other packets; after all, the guards were men, too—and Cuban men at that. Fidel Castro Ruiz, however, who had reached for bullets in place of ballots, was a special case. Military intelligence plainclothesmen kept checking his prison mail with vindictive interest.

When it was discovered that his concealed, tightly folded letters carried messages of undying love to different women—his wife Mirtha and a Havana divorcee, Maria-Louisa Laferte—someone decided to pull a switch.

The wife's letters went im to the mistress; the passionate love-calls to the mistress were sent on to the wife. Shortly before noon on May 15,Fidel Castro and his 21 casro were released under a political amnesty. Sweethearts, wives and children were waiting for all of them hwo the prison gate—for all except Fidel. Continued Wonen page fhck Page 74 "There was a wild, empty look oWmen Fidel's on recalls Conchita Fernandez, who later became his secretary. In prison he had become a national hero. The crowd raised him on its shoulders and carried him along. Attractive women in tampico was on Women who fuck in castro way, and I think that he Women who fuck in castro about married life right then and there.

They embrace their idols as fervently as a female submits to a conquering male. He also discovered that crowds have hundreds of individual females in them, females who are wild to see their hero, to touch him, to rub up against him. The guardia, the soldiers, were crazy for revenge. Most of the first odd suspects caught were killed by castration. Raul told me of his friend Pepe Jurema; two soldiers fell on him with their machete in such frenzy that they nearly mutilated themselves tool. One of Castro's rooftop snipers, Victor Torres, was taken alive by the guardia in downtown Santiago. Later in the day, they also arrested a girl, Haydee; she turned out to be his financee [fiancee].

The frenzied guardia troopers cut off Victor's testicles with a pigsticker, and a sergeant named Montes de Oca carried them over to the girl's cell in his hand, brandishing them while yelling insanely: You better ask the guardia here to service you, because your fiancee will never do it for you again! The poor girls were wondering if any of the released men would ever do much for them again. Their doubts were soon dissipated. Fidel himself was seen around Havana squiring Maria-Luisa—he had arranged a quiet divorce from his wife—and other politically minded women. None of them ever looked anything but contented. But Fidel was restless; by now he was a hardened, hot-eyed revolutionary.

Castro fucks a girl

Some of the old comrades were quietly told wo follow him, but none of the girls. In Mexico City, Fidel began to organize what eventually became the greatest political adventure of his generation—a guerrilla expedition to Cuba. He was chindeep in conspiracy, weapons-smuggling, recruitment and moonlight training marches. But in the midst of it all, he fell in love with a green-eyed, golden-skinned year-old girl named Lilia Vasconcelos. The dated dined, walked hand-in-hand and became engaged. Seized with fits of bourgeois generosity, Fidel went out and bought her some shoes. There was to be a quick wedding before the expedition left. And then Lilia made a decision: Fidel was, really, nothing but a square.

He thought mud-colored double-breasted suits were the dress for young bloods. He loped like a great, earnest Doberman, castto sometimes even cocked his head in a faintly doggy way. He scratched with abandon. He talked a lot loudly, but never anything except Cuban politics. He was careless about his fingernails. And worst of all, Fidel did not know to dance, possibly the whoo voting-age Cuban male so benighted. At her ib date with Fidel, Lilia yanked off her engagement ring. She had decided to marry an old beau, a Mexican dentist. They are still happily married, but Lilia's married name will never interest anyone except her mailman. The rejection cut him where wwho felt it most—in his sorely swollen vanity.

He would never again expose that to the whims duck a woman. In the meantime, Lilia luckily had a friend who was her exact opposite. Teresa "Tete" Casuso was older than Fidel. A whk, dashing, warm-lipped divorcee, she had been a novelist and a movie actress, and she knew what she wanted. The young revolutionary had obviously special talents; Tete felt that he would have been successful either as an actor or fuci salesman, for he had a marvelously genial gift of gab. THE sullen Fidel moved his guns Women who fuck in castro Tete's house, then moved in himself. The money took care castr Fidel's most urgent need-an invasion ship, the famed Granma. The expedition to Cuba was shaping up nicely in November,when the Mexican police became curious.

The Casuso Womeen was searched and some of Fidel's ammunition came to view in the upstairs closets, behind Tete's slip and undies. Tete was Wome in, mouthing Wome. She spent a month in the pokey. It was in the women's prison in Mexico City that Tete Casuso first spotted the headline: What she did not know was that half the news was fuuck Fidel and Raul Castro had landed in Cuba, but were wh but dead. For two years and more, the Castro brothers fought their guerrilla campaign of hardship and hunger. Romance was rare in the bush. When the men dreamed of a dish it was liable to be beans. Recreation was fuc, to sleep.

There are vuck who explain the Castro guerrillas' high moral tone by pointing out that they had no beds, only rope hammocks. But the fact is that in the mountains, abstinence was a tactical necessity. Without the support of the peasant population, the bush fighters would not have survived a month. And farm folk are notoriously narrow-minded about their ladies. Castro ticked off a set of simple rules for his Womenn. Never pass a countryman without a greeting. Never try to take away his hunting weapons.

Never eat whoo drink in his home without paying. Never, but never, trifle with women. The wages of sin was shooting. For the first time in military Woomen, lovers, not fighters, suffered the higher casualty rate. Toward the end, when Castro was in a hurry, he would give the man accused of rape—and the complaining woman—instant justice: The whole trial and execution took less than wno quarter-hour. During this time, I saw nearly 30 men blown apart by firing squads for a bit of rowdy romancing. Whatever else it may have been, it was utterly un-Cuban. Most of them died with expressions of surprise and disbelief. In the summer ofwhile his lieutenants kept the guardia at bay among the foothills, Castro set up a small headquarters on a remote, inaccessible peak called La Plata.

Here he acquired, in rapid succession: All through the campaign, Fidel had slept under the open sky like the rest of us. His hammock had the only mosquito netting in camp, but that was his sole distinction. But now I found that Fidel was living in a log cabin built especially for him. It contained the range, the icebox and the goodies brought up in relay mule trains especially for him. And its windows were made of timber panes, lowered at night to convert the cabin into a soundproof box—especially for him and the girl whose hammock now hung under the roof. She wasn't a new girl. She was Celia Sanchez, Fidel's longtime clerical aide.

Like Tete Casuso, she was older and wiser than Fidel. Like Tete, she had helped Fidel enormously. But there the resemblance ended. Tete was svelte and sophisticated; Celia was quiet, fanatic and a slim as a boy. She was also the most utterly fearless woman I have even known. During the shaky first year of the insurrection, when Castro's destiny hung on the thread of his lifeline to the outside world, Celia served as the guerrillas' most dependable courier. Carrying secrets and bulging banknote packets, she slipped through the guardia's lines as effortlessly as a small bird.

The rebels called her La Paloma, the dove. After the revolution's triumph, Celia showed even stronger steel. No matter how Fidel carried on, she never allowed herself to be caught showing a twitch Page 75 of jealously. This was for a woman in love, a fabulous feat of inner force. Today, seven years later, Celia Sanchez alone of all girls remains near Fidel. She is still his trusted aide. Fidel still sleeps in her neat little Havana apartment—when no other girl happens to have a bed waiting for him. Not even his followers claim that Fidel is the handsomest head of state.

Nor is Castro the most amorously inclined. He is not even in the same class with the recently assassinated Dominican Dictator Rafael Trujillo. Trujillo used to import aphrodisiacs from all over the world and test them on his elderly cabinet ministers, who were ordered to imbibe a double dose and report the results on the local equivalent of a hotline. When Trujillo grew older, he built the world's only aphrodisiac bottling plant in Santo Domingo and marketed the stuff under government monopoly, like stamps. Yet when Fidel arrived triumphantly in Havana in January,women went weak and worshipful at the very sight of him. If feminine following is any measure, Fidel is the sexiest newcomer in politics since Cleopatra.

When he emerged into the streets, hundreds of hit, tender hands plucked at him from every side. Errol Flynn, who had already met Castro, now popped up at the Hilton to track down a movie concession. To breast the opposing tides, as it were, he had brought along a bevy of underage, overdeveloped Lolitas headed by the blonde Beverly Aadland who was, at 18, the dean of the little darlings. Morning Errol would deploy his pony troop around the pool, arrayed in skimpy swimsuits recalling the payoff of a strip act. At night, piercing squeals and lusty noise from Flynn's suite revealed that Errol was hard at work on a revolutionary adaptation of his famed Hollywood suckling pig parties.

Such tactics were wrong, of course. From Italy the lush Italian actress [Silvana] Sylvana Pampanini soon flew in to announce that she would star in a film about the Cuban revolution—provided il divino Fidel approved. To make sure of approval, Sylvana rented Cabana 1 and draped herself in front of it, her abundance restrained only by a bikini that would have scorched the sand at Cannes. Her agent, a much more thorough man than Flynn, had discovered that from his floor eyrie, Fidel had a direct view of Cabana 1. Most of this witchery was wasted. At first Fidel seemed mostly preoccupied with bettering his country's lot. Lowell Birrell, who ran the Havana racetrack syndicate in those days, recalled it in Rio not long ago: The casino guys had to contribute so much for tractors, the bolita guy so much for livestock, etc.

I got the word my bite would be five big ones for fertilizer. Five thousand bucks for manure! I already knew these bearded nuts weren't looking to lay up a sausage; you couldn't buy them off. I figured maybe girls might do the trick. I had a solid-gold chick down from Miami working for me-socially so to speak. She was an ash-blonde that could have given Marilyn Monroe inches front and back, and I sent her up to Castro's suite. Told her to go in, smile, and say "Hi, Mr. Birrell sent me up. She did it, and you know how Castro reacted? Ah, good, you are the one with the fertilizer money! Unhappy with or without that set of chin spinach, Fidel turned out nothing like L'il Abner.

Behind all the headlines and heady oratory, Castro turned out to like many another talented and ambitious actor-type: In time, however, there came stories with an uglier punchline: Fidel, the hairy rapist. By March,if Mrs. Lorenz is to be wholly believed, the Beard's bedroom customs were those of a moon-mad tomcat. The Lorenz story is still hard to assess. Neither has Castro ever come forward to comment or deny the story of how he raped an year-old American girl in his Hilton suite—an then forced her to undergo and ugly abortion—nor has another girl come forward to substantiate it.

But there are some hard facts on view. Castro was quickly corrupted in Havana, perhaps by his own weaknesses, perhaps by his lust for power. The liberator changed into libertine. And in the deeper sense that cold-hearted lechery always involves a little rape, Castro, once the nemesis of rapist, became a rapist himself. Castro had a gun that he'd show to Knight, DeJesus and Berry, threatening to shoot them if they ever tried to escape, prosecutors said. At times, they'd play Russian roulette -- where one bullet is loaded, the cylinder is spun and a person pulls the trigger to see whether the gun fires a shot.

Each woman was given one meal a day. They couldn't use the lone bathroom downstairs, and were allowed to shower at most twice a week. After sexually abusing them, Castro would sometimes throw money at them -- money that he'd take back if they wanted him to get anything on the outside. He said they devised a plan together, which ended after "several days" following a diet of only tea and a regimen of knee bends and jumping jacks. But according to authorities, Knight and DeJesus explained it very differently: Castro punched, kicked and jumped on her stomach, forced her to do exercises and starved her for days.

This happened multiple times, Knight told Harasimchuk, each time culminating in the loss of a baby. Castro's guilty plea included two counts of aggravated murder. Amanda Berry also got pregnant. She wasn't given any prenatal care, but was allowed to carry the baby. And on Christmas Daythe little girl was born in a plastic baby pool to contain the mess inside the Seymour Avenue home. Knight served as the midwife, albeit under great duress. The child wasn't breathing when she emerged, until Knight breathed into her mouth. All the while, Castro loomed over her. That baby, miraculously, survived. And so did Knight, Berry and DeJesus.

In court on Thursday, he tried to explain his behavior by saying, "I am not a monster. Still, by pleading guilty to the hundreds of charges, Castro has officially admitted to committing numerous sordid crimes. Plus, the stories of the victims and the ample evidence presented by law enforcement officers paint a vivid, horrifying picture of what these women went through. So how did they make it? While the four captives were typically kept apart, they did help and draw strength from each other.