Melene is the same build as Christy, but with wavy dark hair. She also has such small breasts and narrow hips that I think if she pasted on a mustache, she could walk through a men's locker room in a janitor's jumpsuit and not raise an eyebrow. That said, she's a beauty. Her skin is fine white, her moves are confident and graceful and she, too, has a fine head on her shoulders.
She walks up and looks me square in the eye, "I've listened to what the others have experienced. I'm willing to do this, but you must understand something."
"What?" I say evenly.
"I'm not into pain. I'll do what you ask, but if you hurt me, it ends. Just like that."
"I agree... as long as you agree to give me a warning by saying, "ouch". I'm not living in your body, and I've known some women who flat out refuse to admit pain."
She looks at me like I'm telling her I've visited Mars.
"It's true!" I say.
"... OK. I promise to tell you 'ouch' when I hurt, and you promise stop when I say that."
"I agree to that."
"How do you want me?"
I put my hand to my chin and say, "Hmm... I'll give you a choice: either shirt and long skirt, or tank top and jeans. You look real fine in both."
"Bound?"
"Do you think your lady friends can put rope on you without hurting you?"
She frowns at me, "I'm not a 'Tender Tilly'. I just don't like being hurt."
"Excellent! Come tied." I say.
As I walk away, I think to myself, "She is definitely a question mark. If I spend the night dodging 'ouches', it will turn into a long night of shrew tending."
When she steps out of the car that night, I'm instantly impressed. She's in a dark shirt with a light, calf-length, full-cut skirt, and her arms are wrapped in rope from wrist-to-elbow. In spite of how far back her shoulders are drawn, her breasts barely protrude -- I find this a big turn-on. "Form, fit, function." I think, "Now, if they only come with a full set of sensual nerve endings, this could be quite an evening."
She walks up with Suzanne beside her, carrying her bag. She looks me up and down, and then squarely in the eye.
"I'm ready." she says evenly, and nods to Suzanne, who drops her bag, and walks back to the car.
I blindfold her as I've done the others and lead her back to the van.
"Hold me by the hair." she suggests, "It will make me feel more helpless. You can tug it occasionally, if you like."
I do, and I tug, and I hear her breathing quicken a bit....
It turns out that Melene has an odd ability: She can explain her fantasies without having that spoil things for her. She is also curious about other people's fantasies. As we get to know each other that evening, she does a lot of talking. She explains how she feels when I try touching her this way and that way, and she asks how I feel when she touches me.
All that talk would be tiresome, if she didn't get so turned on when I do what she suggests, and if she didn't turn me on so when I answer what she asks. Instead by dawn we are both in an exhausted sweat. She kisses me with a dozen soft, light, heartfelt little kisses, "Thanks for being so understanding." she says.
"My pleasure." I say, meaning it about six different ways.