The Fantasy of a Cum-Addicted Wife

Hey guys, Cindy here. It’s been a while. Cal and I have been doing some growing. I wanted to share a fantasy I have. Cal is aware of this one.

There’s a fantasy that has lingered in the back of my mind for some time now, one that stirs a deep, secret longing within me. It’s something I’ve kept close to my heart, a private desire that has grown stronger with each passing day. It all started with the nights when my husband would be away; those long, lonely evenings when I would crave the connection that only he could provide.

In his absence, I turned to a substitute—a bottle of thick, silky lubricant designed to mimic the sensation of his release. I’d use it in the heat of the moment, imagining it was his seed slicking my fingers, easing the way as I pleasured myself. The idea of it—the thought of being coated in his essence, of it lingering on my skin even after he was gone—was intoxicating. But as satisfying as the fantasy was, I knew it was just that: a fantasy.

I began to wonder, though—what if it didn’t have to be? What if, instead of reaching for that bottle of synthetic fluid, I could reach for something real, something that was a tangible reminder of the passion we share? What if, after those intense nights when he pours himself onto me, I could save a part of him, storing it away for when he’s not there? The thought sends a thrill through me every time it crosses my mind.

Imagine it: the coolness of the jar as I pull it from the refrigerator, knowing that inside it holds the essence of his desire, the very proof of our connection. The idea of using it, of letting his cum coat my fingers as I pleasure myself, of feeling it mix with my own arousal—it’s a thought that makes me wet just imagining it.

The fantasy goes something like this.

In the hidden corner of our refrigerator, nestled behind the everyday items that keep our household running, lies a jar that holds a secret known only to the two of us. This jar, cool to the touch, contains the essence of my husband—a tangible connection to our deepest, most intimate moments. Every time I reach for it, anticipation hums through my veins, knowing what’s to come.

Tonight, I take it from its chilly sanctuary, feeling the coldness seep into my palm as I carry it back to our bedroom. The jar feels almost electric against my skin, the cool glass a stark contrast to the warmth already beginning to stir deep within me. This ritual, one of devotion and desire, is something I cherish more than words can express.

I twist the lid, and the familiar scent of him fills the air, subtle but undeniably powerful. Dipping my fingers into the jar, I feel the cool, thick liquid coat my skin, sending a delicious shiver through my body. The chill of it is thrilling, heightening every sensation as my fingers trail from the jar to my lips. I taste him, savoring the rich, slightly salty essence, the coolness spreading through my mouth and down into my core, awakening every nerve.

As I swallow, my free hand begins a slow descent, tracing a path down my body, my skin tingling under my own touch. My breath hitches as I reach the place where my desire pools, already wet, already yearning for the release I know is coming. The cool slickness on my fingers feels divine as they slip between my folds, the contrast between the coldness of his seed and the heat of my arousal making me gasp with pleasure.

I circle my clit slowly at first, teasing myself, feeling the way my body responds to the mix of sensations. The coldness of his cum is almost shocking against my heated skin, each touch sending jolts of pleasure coursing through me, making my thighs quiver. My clit, sensitive and swollen, pulses under my touch, the friction of my fingers against it driving me wild with need.

The slickness makes every movement smoother, more intense, as I dip lower, coating my fingers further in the mixture of his essence and my own wetness. I slide one finger inside, then another, the coolness making my inner walls clench in response. I can feel the chill spreading inside me, a stark contrast to the burning heat of my desire. The sensation is intoxicating, pushing me closer to the edge with every thrust of my fingers.

I imagine his eyes on me, dark and filled with lust, knowing exactly what I’m doing, how I’m using his seed to fuel my pleasure. The thought makes me moan aloud, my fingers moving faster, deeper, the slickness allowing me to lose myself completely in the rhythm of my own need. I curl my fingers inside, finding that sweet spot that makes my toes curl, the coldness sending shockwaves of pleasure through me as I stroke it.

My other hand returns to my clit, rubbing in tight circles, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. My body arches off the bed, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I feel the orgasm rising, unstoppable and all-consuming. The coolness of his cum, mixed with the heat of my own arousal, creates a storm of sensation that overtakes me, pulling me under as I fall over the edge.

I cry out his name as the orgasm crashes through me, my fingers still working inside, milking every last drop of pleasure from the moment. The waves of ecstasy pulse through me, one after another, leaving me trembling and breathless, my body slick with the evidence of our shared desire.

But even as the intensity subsides, I’m not done. With a wicked grin, I dip my fingers back into the jar, feeling the last remnants of his chilled essence as I use it once more. The sensation is even more powerful now, my body hypersensitive, the slickness making every touch electric. I bring myself to the brink again, my fingers working feverishly, until I’m falling once more, lost in the sheer, overwhelming pleasure of it all.

It’s a fantasy I’m ready to make a reality, a step deeper into the intimacy we share. I want to start saving him, to keep those moments of passion alive even when he’s not here. I crave the sensation of his real cum, chilled and waiting for me, to use in those moments of solitary pleasure, connecting me to him in the most intimate way possible.

For now, I still use the fake cum, playing out the fantasy in my mind, but I know that soon it will be different. Soon, it will be real. And the thought of that makes me more aroused than ever.

Thank you for taking this journey into the depths of my desires, for stepping into the intimate corners of my mind where fantasies blend with reality. It’s not every day that I get to share these secret longings, and it thrills me to know that you’ve been along for the ride.

I hope that in reading this, you’ve felt a spark of the passion that fuels my fantasies—a passion that’s only made stronger by the thought of what’s to come. There’s something incredibly arousing about baring not just my body, but my deepest desires, to someone who truly appreciates the art of seduction.

So, until next time, when perhaps I’ll have more to share, more fantasies turned into reality—I’ll leave you with this: hold onto your desires, cherish them, and let them guide you to the places where pleasure and intimacy intertwine. And remember, the best secrets are the ones we keep… and sometimes, the ones we share.

With gratitude and a hint of mischief, Cindy