LITMIR.BIZ

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just wanted to be fucked.

      I made my way down Woodstone Road creating a show of searching for number 78 just in case he was watching from his window. My aim was to look like I’d never been to this part of Brixton before. I was a newbie, a blow-in.

      My heels clacked on wonky pavers and I brushed down the wrinkles in my short red skirt as I approached. I’d worn the opposite to yesterday. No sneakers and jeans for me tonight. I was no longer the inquisitive woman who’d hung in his shrubbery, splashed down the street and ran for the bus. Tonight I was a slut, a harlot, a woman who was ready to be used for a man’s most basic satisfaction.

      I opened the gate and climbed the steps to the front door, noticing that his curtains were drawn. They were unlined and a weak light shone through them onto the bushes beneath the window. With a trembling hand, for nerves along with lust had overtaken my body, I pressed the intercom buzzer next to ‘L Biros’.

      He didn’t speak, just released the lock to let me in.

      The short corridor, leading to a steep set of stairs, was empty of furniture and people, the walls a grimy beige, and as the front door shut behind me with a resounding clunk, silence enveloped me.

      His room, number 2, was the first on the right. I took a deep breath and stepped up to it. Draped over the handle was a piece of purple material, about the length and width of a tie. I picked it up, wondering what it was. Painted on the underside were two big eyes. They were almost comical, bright blue and with long lashes, the whites completely exposed.

      I now knew what he wanted me to wear.

      A blindfold.

      I should have guessed. All day I’d fantasised about what he’d leave for me. Crotchless panties, nipple clamps, a leather collar, perhaps. But none of that was really Liuz’s style. He wanted to play a game where he was the one in control with me at his mercy. He was going to do that by taking away one of my senses. Luckily, the game, and the blindfold, suited me very well.

      Quickly, I tied the material around the back of my head, allowing a slit between my cheeks so if I strained my eyes down I could look at my feet. I was pleased I’d already seen Liuz. If I hadn’t and I didn’t know how ludicrously attracted to him I was, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to go through with being fucked by him.

      I knocked on the door, the noise loud in the quiet stillness, and willed my heart to slow. My hard nipples abraded the cups of my bra with each rapid breath I took. My pussy leaked, the gusset of my thong completely sopping. Getting carnal and sweaty couldn’t come quick enough.

      The door opened and I was aware of the heavy scent of tobacco before my wrists were caught by big, strong hands.

      ‘Not tight enough.’ The same accent-heavy voice I’d heard yesterday.

      ‘Liuz?’

      ‘Who else were you expecting, Aniolku?’

      I was tugged into the room and my bag fell to the floor. The door slammed shut and I was pressed up against it. Liuz’s hands were at the back of my head. Fiddling, tightening, compressing the blindfold further and taking away the sliver of light I had. Now it was so taut I couldn’t open my eyelids behind it.

      I reached forward and touched bare flesh; warm, rippled with muscles and coarse hairs. A quick exploration revealed tight flat nipples and the rise of collarbones.

      ‘You showed me so little in your picture when I gave you so much,’ he said, his hot breath washing over my cheek. ‘So now it is my turn to look at you. All of you.’

      I spread my hands over his shoulders. They were high above me, wide and rounded slightly forwards as his hands explored my nape and my neck, the dip of my throat.

      ‘But we must agree on one thing,’ he said. ‘Because we are no longer just sharing emails, now we are together for real and I want to give you everything you hoped for. Everything you told me you desire.’

      His lips whispered over mine and I parted my mouth, sucked in the muggy air, hoping for a kiss.

      It didn’t come.

      ‘Kilimanjaro,’ he murmured.

      I swallowed tightly and slid my hands down over his biceps. They were bunched and solid, huge balls of power waiting to be released. A tremble ran up my spine. He felt so damn big and so damn strong.

      ‘Say it,’ he said, cupping my jaw in both of his hands and tilting my head upwards. ‘Say “Kilimanjaro”.’

      ‘Kilimanjaro.’

      What was he on about?

      ‘That’s the stop word,’ he said, rubbing his thumb over my bottom lip, roughly, and I knew he would be spreading my carefully applied ruby lipstick towards my cheek. ‘If something happens either of us doesn’t want to happen, we just say “Kilimanjaro” and everything stops.’

      ‘Everything?’

      ‘Yes, absolutely everything. It’s not a safe word, Hannah, it’s a stop word. If you say “Kilimanjaro” it will stop what we are doing in every sense. There will be no more. The same goes if I say it to you. No more. We are fulfilling fantasies here, and if we are not making the dreams come true then what is the point?’

      ‘What do you mean “no more”?’

      ‘No more communication, no more us. Full stop, end of. Out of each other’s lives, forever.’

      I couldn’t imagine needing to use a stop word – if anything I wanted a start word. I wanted him to get down to the serious business of sating the lust he’d been building within me over these last few weeks. ‘OK. Stop word. Kilimanjaro.’

      He caught my mouth in a hungry kiss and poked his tongue past my teeth as a low groan rumbled up from his chest.

      I grabbed his shoulders and became lost in my dark world. His kiss was wild and untamed. It communicated passion, hunger and raw male desire. The added tobacco flavour, instead of repulsing me, enhanced the unwholesomeness of him that appealed to me so much.

      He explored with his hands, dragging off my denim jacket and cupping my breasts through my short-sleeved top. The cupping turned into a squeeze, hard and firm, pressing my flesh into my chest.

      I raked my fingers into his hair, let the warm, silken strands flow between my knuckles and urged him on. His body slammed into mine. A steely erection prodded my abdomen, and he reached down and slipped his hand between my legs, my short skirt no barrier to his determination.

      ‘Liuz.’ I curled my fingers into the waistband of his jeans that sat low on his hips. ‘Please.’

      ‘Ah, yes,’ he said, stroking over my drenched thong, ‘you are so ready for it.’

      ‘I know, I want you, please, now.’

      ‘And you’re going to get it, but remember.’ He sneaked a finger behind my gusset and stroked over my wet folds. ‘Remember you came here tonight to be my slut, which means I get to say when and how you get fucked. Not you.’

      I whimpered and allowed my knees to sink a little, wanting him to penetrate me with his fingers. I needed filling, by him.

      Suddenly he stepped away, and once again circled my wrists with his hands. ‘This way, slut, come this way.’

      I stepped forwards, stumbling slightly in my heels. My knees quivered, lust a potent drug that had well and truly taken hold.

      ‘Bend over,’ he said, applying insistent pressure to the centre of my back.

      Instinctively I reached forward. A smooth, flat surface lay before me – a table. The force on my back increased and I doubled until my chest and stomach hit the coolness and I was at a right angle.

      ‘That’s it, now spread your legs.’

      His hands were all over me, my ass, behind the backs of my knees, round my ankles, pulling them wider. He wrapped something

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