If at first...

We all find ourselves at one point or another tying up a tall blonde from Manchester without the proper qualifications. It was all going pretty well. I had passed the soft black bondage rope, doubled up like it should be, in between her legs and through a loop at the back of her neck. There was a thick knot just above her clit, and when I would tighten the rope later, the soft bundle would press against her vulva in a lovely teasing way.

Kneeling on the bed, the black rope on her pale skin, she looked irresistible.

I began tying her arms, weaving the strands of the rope together in a pleasantly symmetrical way... and that's where the trouble began. I was about to run out of rope.

Fifteen feet had clearly not been plenty, like I thought. And I had clearly made too many wasteful decisions along the way, using too much rope just because I got caught up in the erotic intricacies of it all, maybe not thinking about how tall she is.

There was no alternative, I had to loosen the bonds and start over.

She had just been getting there... just about to slide into that state of letting go, the restraints hugging her torso from chest to crotch in a tight embrace. And then I muttered, "Um, I think I have to do this a bit differently..."

Her frustration only lasted a few moments, the premature loosening of the ropes followed by a different, more secure tightening. And this time, when I reached her wrists, there was even a foot of rope left.

On the photograph I took of her, bent over and kneeling, the spare rope slinks down between her buttocks like a tail.