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Alone with my Naked Best Friend - Naked Punishment Part 3
🕑 Added 2025-07-21 22:00:03 +0000 UTCWednesday
By Wednesday, I was a fucking mess.
I couldn’t focus. Could barely breathe when Tyler was near me. And we had so many classes together. The sight of his body—bare and easy like he didn’t even notice how good he looked—was driving me crazy. His tan lines. The faint trail of hair leading down. That stupid confident grin.
My dick twitched every time he leaned too close.
It wasn’t helping that I was starting to notice everything—the way he scratched his inner thigh during math, the way he stretched in his seat, arms behind his head, chest tight, cock resting heavy against his thigh. He caught me staring at it at least twice, and both times he just smirked like I was watching the clouds or something.
Around lunchtime, we were in line at the cafeteria. He leaned into me to whisper a joke about someone’s mohawk, and his hand accidentally brushed against my ass.
I stiffened.
He didn’t move it right away.
“Damn,” he said, low. “You been doing squats?”
I laughed, way too loud. “Shut up.”
“Just appreciating,” he winked, and let his hand fall.
Was he flirting?
Was he just being Tyler?
Later, in art class, we both reached for the same brush and our hands overlapped. His fingers wrapped around mine, and he didn’t let go immediately. He just held it there, like we were sharing some private current between us. I felt my whole body buzz.
We didn’t even use the brush. Just sat there with our hands weirdly linked for a moment too long.
And then came the announcement.
“Matt. Tyler. Principal Radcliffe wants to see you.”
Fuck.
We walked into her office together, side by side and still naked—at this point, barely registering how weird that should’ve been. She folded her arms as we stood there.
“I found another drawing,” she said, sliding a photo across her desk. “Locker 16. Impressive detail, again.”
Tyler started to open his mouth, but I cut him off.
“That one’s… old. Last week. I forgot to clean it. Sorry.”
Radcliffe raised an eyebrow.
“So you’re not just curious about anatomy, you’re also forgetful?”
I swallowed. “Guess so.”
She sighed. “Then your new punishment will be helping out after hours. The gym storage is a mess—take care of it after school. Alone. No distractions.”
We nodded.
And that’s how I ended up shirtless, barefoot, and already half-hard, standing with Tyler in the dark storage room behind the gym at 6:12 p.m.
It smelled like dust and sweat and rubber mats. There were shelves of old basketballs, yoga blocks, mats rolled up and stacked like bodies. Tyler was tossing things into piles. I was trying not to get caught staring at his ass every time he bent down.
“Hey,” he said suddenly, tossing a towel at my face. “I meant what I said earlier.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Thanks. For covering for me. You didn’t have to.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, well. I couldn’t let them expel your stinky gooner ass.”
He laughed. “Please. You’re the one who needs a shower.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, raising an eyebrow.
He grabbed a spray bottle off the shelf and squirted me in the chest. “Yup.”
“Dude—!”
I grabbed another bottle and sprayed him back. Water hit his side, ran down his ribs, glistened on his cock. I nearly sprayed my own foot from how hard I was.
It turned into a mini water fight. Both of us laughing, slipping on the floor, our bare skin wet and gleaming under the shitty fluorescent light. I was panting—not from running, but from how horny I was. Every time he got close, I wanted to grab him, taste him.
And then he sprayed me right in the dick.
“Oops,” he said, grinning.
I froze. My cock was standing tall, glistening, leaking at the tip.
He raised an eyebrow. “Need me to dry that off for you?”
Before I could answer, he knelt down.
The room went quiet.
Tyler took the same towel and dabbed the water from my shaft. His touch was weirdly careful, slow. He looked up at me once—just once—and then went back to it, rubbing along my cock like he wasn’t even thinking about it.
Except I knew he was.
His grip tightened.
He started jerking me off. Slowly at first, then faster. His hand was slick from the water, and it felt like everything in my body was unraveling.
“Tyler—fuck—”
“Just my way of saying thanks,” he said, still stroking. His eyes never left mine.
I gripped the shelf behind me, knees weak. His fist moved faster, up and down, teasing the head with a flick of his wrist every time. My whole body was buzzing.
I came hard—groaning, hips twitching, my cum splattering onto his chest and arm.
He wiped it with the same towel and winked.
“See? I do appreciate you.”
And then he stood, tossed the towel, and went back to sorting basketballs like nothing had happened.
Like he didn’t just make me cum in a gym storage room.
Like this wasn’t going to fuck me up in the best way possible.
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PART 4 Preview
I kept replaying the scene in the gym storage room over and over. His hand. His smirk. The way he wiped my cum off like it was just another chore. I woke up hard and confused and way too turned on.
