My historical education is screaming at me as I request this. But - When Pocahontas is singing "Colours of the Wind" and they tumble down the hill and look like their going to kiss - could we continue that scene into them making love. Let's have John show Pocahontas the colours of the wind ;-)
Paint with all the Colors of the Wind (1/3)disneykinkloverOctober 18 2012, 21:00:41 UTC
Colors of the Wind
“When I say ‘uncivilized,’ what I mean is… is…”
“What you mean is not like youShe began to sing; her beautiful, full lips the exit for which her soul found to inform him on how he could learn to accept her differences. The wind blew, the green leaves flowing alongside him as if pulled by a river. John followed Pocahontas to the edge of a cliff. She continued to sing; her voice was lilting and as angelic as any choir in mass back in London. It was better; wild and untamed, undomesticated and uncivilized
( ... )
Re: Paint with all the Colors of the Wind (2/3)disneykinkloverOctober 18 2012, 21:02:26 UTC
Pocahontas stood still for a moment as her new friend’s lips tasted hers. She was sure they both felt the moon’s pull, the river’s push. She had not allowed any sign to escape her being that she felt drawn towards him. Oh, he had almost exited that tent, performed the actions. She had seen his eyes. But she, Powhatan’s offspring, chief’s daughter, traditional future wife to the strongest warrior - it was not what was meant to be.
She kissed him back. It was what she wanted, after all
( ... )
Re: Paint with all the Colors of the Wind (3/3)disneykinkloverOctober 18 2012, 21:06:49 UTC
His pillock, unattended to for the past several months, had been at attention for some time. He could feel her wetness mere inches from him and he eagerly sought. Something nipped at his mind and he stopped, asking, “Pocahontas…” Unsure how to ask, he let her name hang between him
( ... )
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“When I say ‘uncivilized,’ what I mean is… is…”
“What you mean is not like youShe began to sing; her beautiful, full lips the exit for which her soul found to inform him on how he could learn to accept her differences. The wind blew, the green leaves flowing alongside him as if pulled by a river. John followed Pocahontas to the edge of a cliff. She continued to sing; her voice was lilting and as angelic as any choir in mass back in London. It was better; wild and untamed, undomesticated and uncivilized ( ... )
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She kissed him back. It was what she wanted, after all ( ... )
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~DKL
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