I Caught Him Stroking... - Naked Punishment Part 4

Thursday

I didn’t know what to expect after last night.

I thought maybe Tyler would avoid me, or worse—pretend it didn’t happen. 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.

But when I got to school, he was already there.

Naked.

Same as always.

He waved at me like everything was normal. And maybe, for him, it was.

“Sleep good?” he asked, slinging an arm over my shoulder like he didn’t jerk me off in the dark less than twelve hours ago.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, trying not to look at his dick.

He grinned. “You look tense.”

No shit.

The day crawled by, each hour layered with more heat. We brushed against each other in the hallway. Our thighs touched again during class. At one point, he bent over to pick up a pencil and his ass was right in front of me. I nearly bit my own tongue.

After lunch, the announcement came again:

“Matt. Tyler. Please report to Principal Radcliffe’s office.”

We walked in, both of us still bare, still pretending.

“You boys did an excellent job yesterday,” she said, folding her hands. “Very thorough.”

I swear Tyler almost laughed.

“We’re repainting one of the old classrooms tonight,” she continued. “Think you can help?”

“Sure,” I said quickly.

“Of course,” Tyler added. Then he leaned toward me and whispered, “Impressive she thought it was clean. Considering I made a bit of a mess in there.”

My ears burned. My whole body tensed.

He smiled and said, “See you at 7 p.m.”

I was a few minutes late. My heart was hammering when I got to the empty wing of the school. The hallway was dim, the classroom door slightly open. I pushed it wider and stepped in.

Tyler was inside.

Naked.

Hard.

And softly stroking his cock with one hand.

He looked up, not even flinching. “Oh. Hey. You’re here.”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t hide it. Just casually let go like he was scratching his stomach or something.

“Sorry you saw that—I was just bored waiting for you. Let’s start.”

Just bored.

Yeah, right.

My dick swelled instantly. I grabbed a roller and started dipping it in paint, trying to breathe.

We worked in silence for a few minutes, but my brain was going a thousand miles an hour.

Then I blurted, “What were you thinking about? Just now? You weren’t watching porn.”

He smirked, rolling paint onto the wall like he hadn’t been caught fondling his dick.

“You’re seriously asking me that?”

I stayed quiet.

He turned toward me, roller dripping. “You’re not the only one who gets hard without porn, you know.”

My mouth went dry.

“I’ve been noticing,” he said, “how you get hard around me.”

I froze.

Then he flicked a streak of paint across my cheek. “Relax.”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” I said, grabbing my own brush and dabbing it across his chest.

Paint war.

We started chasing each other around the room, laughing, wet with streaks of color, brushes flicking and slapping skin. His body was covered in smears of pale yellow and white. I probably looked just as ridiculous.

Eventually, he cornered me. Paintbrush aimed low.

“Don’t you dare paint it,” I said, backing into the wall. “It might be toxic for down there.”

He tilted his head. “Good thing I know the best brush for that.”

He dropped the paintbrush and sank to his knees.

Before I could say anything, his tongue was on me—hot, soft, licking the head of my cock with slow circles. Then his lips wrapped around it, sucking gently. I gasped, my hands flying to the wall behind me.

“Tyler—fuck—”

He sucked deeper, bobbing his head, eyes locked on mine.

I was so close, so fast. I could barely breathe.

“If you don’t stop,” I panted, “I’m gonna paint your whole face white.”

He pulled off just long enough to say, “White would look good on me.”

Then he went back down.

I gripped his hair, thrusting into his mouth until I couldn’t take it anymore. I came hard, spilling across his tongue and cheek, dripping down his chin. He moaned like he liked the taste.

Then he stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and leaned in.

“You’re not the only one who gets hard,” he said, reaching down and wrapping my hand around his cock.

We kissed—messy, deep, wet with paint and cum. Our bodies slid together as we jerked each other off, hips rocking, breath hitching. We kissed through it, tongues and hands moving fast.

Tyler came first, shooting across my stomach and chest. I followed, another splash of white across his already painted skin.

He looked down at himself, dripping and messy, and grinned.

“White does look good on me.”

Then he reached down, wiped some of it off my chest, and smeared it on my neck.

“And on you too.”

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Final Part Preview

“Aww,” he grinned. “It was kinda hot seeing your cock all day.”

My cheeks burned. My dick stirred.