I was on a cam site about hotwives and cuckold fantasies, the kind of place where guys shared sexy pics of their wives while others jerked off, admiring and drooling.
I wasn't new to it, but it was mostly just other white guys - showing off their wives, stroking, and sharing fantasies.
That night, though, everything changed.

His name was Charles.

At first, I didn't know much about him. His cam was dark, and I only heard his voice - deep, smooth, and commanding.
We introduced ourselves casually. I called myself Richy, keeping it vague by saying I was from the Midwest.
He told me he was from California. His tone was calm, easy... almost lulling.

He asked questions. Nothing too invasive yet -
"How long have you been married?"
"You guys still keep it hot?"
"She dress up for you sometimes?"

It felt normal. Safe. I answered, telling him about Elle - my thick, gorgeous wife.
Brownish-blonde hair down to the middle of her back, a natural curve to her hips and thighs from motherhood.
She wasn't a gym rat, but she stayed sexy - light tanning, a little time on the machines when she could.
Her natural softness drove me wild, and I could hear the appreciation in Charles' low hums as I described her.

Then he asked for a picture.

Heart racing, I picked a safe one: Elle in shorts and a tight tank top, her body hugged by the clothes in all the right ways.
Her thick thighs peeked out from beneath the shorts, her top teasing the roundness of her DD chest.
She was looking away, playful and sweet - I never showed her full face.

I sent it.

Charles was quiet for a moment.
Then came a slow, approving growl through the mic.

"Mmm, she's a thick little treat, huh, boy?"

That word - boy - made my breath hitch, even though I didn't understand why yet.

I didn't realize it, but my hand had wandered to my cock.
I was half-hard, exposed in my chair without even thinking.
Charles caught me.

"Go ahead, strip down for me, boy. Show me how proud you are."

Trembling slightly, I obeyed - pulling off my shirt first, then sliding down my boxers.
At 6'2", 175 pounds, I was just an average build, long legs, pale skin, not much hair on my chest or thighs.
My cock was shaved smooth, trying to make it look bigger. Even soft, I wasn't tiny - about 1.5" limp - but nothing compared to when I was fully hard, reaching almost 8" with a cock ring.
Still, I felt strangely small under his gaze.

Charles' voice deepened when he saw me naked, his approval mixed with a smirk:

"Cute little thing... not bad for a white boy."

My cheeks burned at the way he said it.

"Got another pic for me, boy?" he teased.

I nodded eagerly, desperate for his attention, pulling up the next one:
Elle standing on our deck outside on a sunny day, wearing a light floral sundress.
Her back to the camera, her left hand lifting her hair up, exposing the nape of her neck.
Her right hand teasingly lifted her dress just enough to show the bottom curve of her ass and a lacy, nearly see-through thong that matched her dress.
Sunlight kissed her tanned skin, her curves glowing naturally.

I heard Charles' low whistle.

"Damn, boy... she's somethin' else."

The way he said it sent shivers down my spine.

Nervous but excited, I finally asked, my voice shaky:
"Can I see your wife? Or your slut?"

Charles chuckled - low and slow - and after a long pause, the darkness on his cam shifted.

When it turned on, my heart slammed against my ribs.

There was no woman.

Instead, there was Charles himself -
A black alpha bull, his body powerful without being overly muscled, broad-shouldered and confident.
And between his thick thighs... his cock.

It was shiny from lube, already semi-hard, and massive - at least 2 to 3 inches longer than mine and twice as thick.
His balls hung low and heavy, shaved smooth, with just a neatly trimmed line of hair above his shaft.
My mouth gaped involuntarily.

I lost balance in my chair, sliding down, legs spreading, cock exposed helplessly -
like I was instinctively offering myself to him.

Charles smirked, slow and cocky.

"You like what you see, boy?"

I nodded, dumb and desperate, my hand moving without thinking.

"See how hard she makes me?" he purred.

And right there, with his cock pointed toward the cam - and my gaping, hungry face - Charles came.
Thick, hot ropes of cum shot out in heavy spurts - splattering my chest, my chin, even hitting my gaping mouth and lips.
I gasped, tasting it, dizzy and overwhelmed.

Still jerking lazily, Charles grinned wide.

"Bet you never expected to get baptized tonight, huh, boy?"

My cheeks burned hotter as I tried wiping the mess - but his voice cracked like a whip:

"Uh-uh. Leave it. You ain't done yet."

He made me keep stroking my now-limp, cummy cock as he kept slowly milking himself, watching every pathetic movement I made.

Somehow, despite being drained, a weak little shudder ran through me -
and I came again.
Pathetically.
Just a few clear dribbles, leaking onto my already messy body.

"Mmm, good little mess." Charles murmured approvingly.

Seeing me instinctively lick my lips sent him over the edge again.
He ordered me to tease my hole with my messy fingers, rubbing my own cum into my skin.

"That's it, boy. Make yourself my little canvas."

Finally, once he'd drained himself fully, he rattled off his Skype and email info.

"We're not done, boy. You owe me another pic for this mess. Next time, I'm gonna break you properly."

Breathless, messy, and already ruined... I added him.
Knowing, deep in my gut, there was no going back.

I belonged to him now.
And I wanted more.