From the period when MTV and then Nickelodeon ran "The Monkees" and I drooled over Peter Tork (couldn't see why Davy Jones was supposed to be so cute), a rather silly bit of role-playing probably inspired by the historical romances my mother read. (Slightly edited from its original version just so that I can bear to put it up.)Pete had been shooting the Monkees episode "Monkees In Texas," and I had had him bring his "Indian" outfit home, since that outift made him look even better than usual. One day I greeted him wearing a frilly scarlet can-can dress. "Put this on," I said, holding out his costume. "You are Chief Flying Squirrel, and you kidnapped me when you raided the settlers' fort."
"Sounds good," he said, "but if you're a pioneer, why are you wearing that?"
"Maybe I'm rich and young and don't have anything more suitable. It was the only thing I could find, OK? Hurry and get dressed, hon; I've been thinking about this all day and I'm a little worked up."
Pete and I love to play these little games. Instead of just being Pete and Josie, it's fun to be a 17th century maiden and her noble lover, or something else we've made up.
Peter reappeared in his outfit. He didn't really look like an Indian anymore than I looked like a pioneer, but he did look sexy. "You come with me," he said, taking hold of my arm.
"No!" I pulled away. "Get your hands off me, you vile savage!"
"I am not a vile savage. I attended an Eastern college for two years."
"You've just killed half the people at the fort, my fiancé probably, but you're not a savage. Right."
"Miss, you probably will not believe me, but the people of that fort have killed over twice as many of my people as the whites who died in that raid."
"No reason to kill innocent people!"
"Our women and children were as innocent as yours. But talking of this gets us nowhere. I am Chief Flying Squirrel, but my white name is Peter."
"Well, Chief Flying Squirrel, you had better let me go!"
"And let you die out there without supplies? Besides, I have other reasons for keeping a woman as attractive as you." He moved toward me. I backed away until I was against the wall. He leaned toward me. "Tell me your name."
"Josephine de Valois," I answered sulkily.
"Pretty name. Now, Josephine, when first I saw you I knew that I had to bring you with me and have you for my own. And I will." He stepped even closer, grabbed me, and kissed me hard. I responded a little while the kiss was going on, but when he let go of me I yanked out from him between him and the wall and nearly lost my balance.
Pete chuckled a little. "It seems I'll have to use additional persuasion, then." He lunged at me and pushed me onto the bed with him on top. I struggled, but his weight kept me pinned. He pressed his mouth on mine, and his hands tried to unfasten my bodice. After he managed to open it, he rolled to the side to take off his clothes. I sat up and unsuccessfully tried to draw the sides of my clothing back together.
"That's not necessary, Josephine. I have seen women before," he remarked.
"Forced other helpless captives too, then?"
"If you care to put it that way. Most of them didn't require persuading." Nude, he sat down on the bed, and I couldn't help looking at his erection. Unfortunately, he noticed that I noticed. "So you like that?" he remarked. "Want to feel it inside you?"
I averted my eyes and tried to sound contemptuous and a little scandalized. "No!"
Pete chuckled. "You're going to anyway." He grabbed hold of my shoulders and pushed me down again. Pulling up my skirts, he scooted up next to me. I could feel his cock against me while he kissed me, played with my tits, and whispered words of endearment to me. And then he got on top of me and entered me; I gasped loudly at the sensation.
Despite the half-unfastened dress tending to get in the way, I was so aroused from imagining this scene earlier that I was very wet and ready. Pete did his best to keep me right on the edge of orgasm for a long time, but eventually he couldn't hold back himself any longer. Seeing his face and feeling his thrusts without their earlier control was the final trigger for my orgasm. When we had gradually slowed down to a stand(lie?)still, Peter looked at me contentedly and asked "So did you enjoy that scene?"
"Yes. Quite. We ought to write Chapter 2 of the story sometime."
"Yes," he agreed, "That'll be something to look forward to."
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