Desperate Need

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There are 2 kinds of people in this world: people who enjoy smut stories, and liars. This is a story of addiction and pleasure, how they can combine to create a monster of desperate craving, infatuation and desire. Our main character has no issue working side by side with the beautiful woman who can hold her own with the boys on the team until he finds himself lucky enough to delight in the pleasures of her flesh. Upon their first moment of intimacy an addiction is born inside of him and he feels a desperation growing more and more with every moment that he is not with her. He needs her. It grows exponentially with every hidden meeting they get the opportunity to claim and with every one that slips through their fingers with the ringing of a phone, the call of duty, the simplicity of the intricacies of life. As their secret relationship continues they take more and more risks with their delight in each other, finding what the other truly desires. But they both have partners at home and their emotional entanglements begin to battle with their simple enjoyment of the flesh. A corner is turned. Heads roll. Universes collide. Lives are ruined, changed, stopped. Will there be a happy ending for anyone? Or will the hammer of justice crumble all the hopes and dreams of pleasure, delight and happiness. Will love win out? Will duty be enforced?

Erotica / Drama
C. M. Brooks
5.0 2 reviews
Age Rating:


She was like a drug.

I never truly understood addiction until I first had her – let me make this clear;

It was not when I met her; when I first met her it was simply a beautiful woman sitting in front of me that could have been the biggest gamble of my life when I hired her for the very intense labouring job she had applied for. She was nothing more than a potential employee when I met her.

It was not when I got to know her; as the weeks progressed I started to get to know the woman who was aptly proving herself to the men in our workshop, she was driven, determined, unstoppable, and I had nothing but respect for her.

It was not when I was working side by side with her; teaching her how to do new things in the workshop, taking her out on site as my offsider, our arms would brush each other as we worked in such close contact and I would feel something stir inside me as tingles radiated through my body.

It was not when I felt amazement at just her. Who she was. What she did. The way she held herself and handled what life threw at her. She had stepped into this workshop as the underdog, the only woman on the crew with 0 experience and nothing but her determination to prove herself. And she did just that.

Those things were beautiful. Those things held me in amazement. Those things made me smile and infatuate and fantasize.

I had those things for months and they were enough.

A year passed of having her in my life and those things were enough.

It was when I first had her that I truly understood addiction.

I became completely addicted to her.

It started with a kiss. An innocent and beautiful kiss. Her lips found mine, mine found hers, we were only inches apart at the time and it was when our eyes met our bodies suddenly found one another irresistible in that moment. They had to meet. That kiss was everything I had hoped it would be and more. It lasted only a moment, it happened quickly and then we both went back to work without a hint of anything being odd, but it took over my whole life.

Only days later I kissed her again, because I needed it, and she did not stop me. This time I touched her hair, her face, and her beautiful body, and still she did not stop me.

My fingertips tingled. My heart danced. My stomach flipped. I did not raise her shirt, it felt wrong to expose her in the workshop in that way, but I felt her body grind against me just slightly as I held her against the wall. She wanted more, but she did not need more the way I did.

Days later we were working side by side in the workshop with a whole crew of staff all around us. Her bare arm grazed mine as we worked. I nearly dropped what I was holding as a zap of electricity coursed through my body. I needed more of her.

I’d fallen asleep each night thinking of her. Woken each morning thinking of her.




My days were filled with thoughts of her.

I couldn’t concentrate when she was around, I’d become a stuttering, bumbling mess of a man who was supposed to be a business owner and team leader. I felt like a twelve year old boy again with a crush on the teacher.

Several times I found myself staring at her, completely encompassed in her movements as she worked, my eyes roaming over her body; from her strong muscular legs to her brown hair losing strands from the messy bun it was tied up in and enjoying the view of everything in between. Thank god for tinted safety glasses.

My other workers noticed something strange about me in those weeks but they only made passing comments about it, ‘off with the fairies,’ ‘losing the plot,’ ‘obviously overworked,’ ‘not getting enough sleep.’ They knew something was up with me when I stopped in the workshop.

She was not new in my life at this point so I was not afraid that they would suspect anything.

For weeks I lived off stolen kisses, occasional deeper moments of passion, and the deep burning desire for more, more, more. But I held myself well in her presence for the most part. At least I hope I did.

I held my need.

I attempted to contain those first few battling moments of what would be my devastating addiction to what I could have, what she had already offered to me of herself, especially considering both of our circumstances externally.

We both had partners.

Hers took care of her well. Allowed her freedom and gave her understanding. At least he seemed to, that was the outer shell that she let us all see most of the time, sometimes I saw something deeper and darker, a longing for what it is she actually needs.

Mine was everything I had ever needed and more. She was wonderful. In our last few years I had never felt a need to wander outside of my partnership, feeling supported and fulfilled by the woman I loved so dearly.

But now my heart, my body and my soul craved more of her.

I needed it.

Several times I nearly said the wrong name in bed with my own partner. I did not feel guilt about those moments as I felt the claws of addiction gripping onto my flesh inside my body. I only felt need. Growing more and more desperate with each passing day.

It was several weeks later that my desire grew to an uncontrollable level and the addiction was truly born. Our work day was over. We were both dirty and sweaty. Her shirt was unbuttoned, her stomach and bra exposed to my will. Her hands were up my own shirt, touching, grabbing, needing.

“I need more of you.” My voice came out harsh, gravelly and rough. Desperate.

Her simple response was “yes please,” in a breathy whisper. Like she knew what was coming, like she had wanted it all along, like she didn’t want to push me too far in this.

But I needed it.

What she simply wanted, I needed.

I guided her to a nearby table, my hands never leaving her body, my lips never leaving her lips as the passion between us grows exponentially with every step.

“I want to do this right.” My voice still sounded strange, like a strangled whisper. She was everything, everything I never knew I wanted or needed. I didn’t want to sprawl her on the table like a cheap dirty fling. I wanted to make love to her, like I knew I only could to her.

“We don’t have the luxury of beds and comfort right now, just bend me over and make me yours for a few moments.”

She was right of course. Beds were a luxury not currently available to us, but her statement of stark fact held in the air between us like a lingering scent. It captivated me how raw and honest she was in that moment. It held me to the spot, impossible to respond to, even though I had just been granted the freedom of everything my addiction desired.

She wanted me.

The only thing I desired for so long now. The person who took up 99% of my mental capacity and logical reasoning through my waking hours. She wanted me.

Right here.

Right now.

On a table.

Dirty and sweaty.


She leaned forward and kissed me again, waking me from my torturous catatonic state in that moment of shock. Fire exploded inside me once more as I knew that I would soon have this wonderful woman, even if only for a few moments.

As we kissed she unbuttoned my shorts, letting them drop to the floor and exposing me with all the desire throughout my body pulsating and gathering in just one area. I found myself unable to physically respond to her other than kisses and caresses. I was frozen in shock that this was actually happening right now.

As she held me in her hand so gently, moving so gracefully, I thought for a moment I might not even last to get what I truly need. Pleasure radiated through my whole body as she stroked my member gently in her hand, her grip just tight enough, her fingers warm and inviting. A moan escaped my lips without me even realizing.

Then she let me go, unbuttoning her own shorts to prove her own desire, the pure want of flesh on flesh, and pulling her clothing down she turned and bent over the table laying herself out like a luxurious dessert. Ready for me. Willing me to continue.

My heart raced. I could feel it thumping in my chest as though it was going to break through my rib cage.

My entire body flushed hot at the sight of her there and wanting me. I could feel the rise of heat as it coursed through my veins.

I throbbed hard, knowing where I would be in only seconds now. My member bucked, begging for entry into her depths.

For so long I have desired this.

For so long I have needed this.

But little did I know my addiction was only just about to begin.

With a single finger I touched and teased her wet and inviting mound, finding my path, delighting in her flesh. The noises that she made beneath my simple touch made my head spin and again I felt my member throb as I pleasured her.

“Please,” she said in a tortured whisper of pleasure. “I need you inside me.”

I couldn’t wait a single second longer following her plea for me.

For me.

In this moment she needed me to give her everything she wanted and I was not willing to disappoint her.

My head was spinning at the realisation that this was actually happening.

My body was burning with the flaming heat of desire.

Stepping forward I pressed my legs against the back of her thighs and gently pushed myself deep inside, my member slipping inside her as though she was made for me.

Her moan echoed around the workshop.

My addiction became tumultuous.

Ecstasy like I’ve never before felt as we moved together and I listened intently to the sounds she made beneath me.

I felt her tighten as I rocked back and forth.

In a moan of ecstasy I felt her whole body shake as she reached climax within seconds, her fingers clenched into fists, her knuckles turned white, her head tucked into the table as the orgasm shook her whole body.

And still I needed more.


And again.

And again.

I made her mine. Sprawled out on that table she would come at my will. She would moan at my will. She would shake and writhe and drip at my will as I owned her body and took what I needed from her.

For the longest time I moved inside her more and more, deeper, longer, not ever wanting our pleasure and passion to end. I watched as I would withdraw my member from her depths, slick and shiny coated in her delicious juices, and with rhythmic precision I would push myself back inside once more, burying myself to the hilt inside of her.


And again.

And again.

It was when I was completely immersed in her, when I could go no deeper, and my forearm was pressed against her back and pinned her down on that table, and my movements had become nothing more than desperate grinding together, that her climax finally pushed me over the edge.

Fireworks exploded.

Planets collided.

The sun went black and the earth stood still as I poured my seed deep inside the beautiful woman beneath me.

We laid on that table, me still on her back, huffing and puffing for what felt like years before she pushed herself up and turned her head towards me. She kissed me. Deep and passionately. “Thank you,” she said so gently, her words still breathy. “That was beautiful.”

I was officially done for. I needed her, this one fling was never going to be enough, and I knew I could never completely have her.

Finding strength in my much older body once more I pushed myself off the table and stood, as did she.

Pulling her shorts up she buttoned them and turned to face me. “Are you ok?” Her words of care struck deep in my heart and tugged on a lingering worry that had been there all along. I knew what she was asking; ‘are you ok with knowing this is all we will ever be.’

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.” It was the truth but I still felt foolish saying it, I felt exposed and raw, like a teenage boy who had just experienced his very first sexual encounter. This was a very unnatural feeling for me. I bent down and pulled up my own shorts, hoping that being fully clothed again would supress the deep guttural vulnerability that I felt might actually tear me apart. It was like she had taken something from me, and the only way to get it back was to be inside her again.

Her hand touched my cheek as I straightened myself and suddenly I was looking into her eyes again, she was only centimetres from me. “Please let me know when we can do this again.”

Yep. I was done for.

Dropping my shorts I wrapped my arms around her body again and held her close to me as we kissed. I sat her on the table right by us and wrapped her legs around my waist as our passion grew once more.

As I said, she was like a drug.

Our bodies were together again within minutes. She didn’t go home for hours.

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