My College Bully | Part 5: His Best Friend Watched Us

All characters in this story are 18+
This story is completely fictional.
All acts in this story are fully consensual.

Backstory: Wes and Ryan have been best friends since college—classic jock duo. They played on the same intramural teams, partied together, and even shared a frat house for a year. Ryan Evans, the more laid-back of the two, is the kind of guy who laughs everything off, rarely takes things too seriously, and always has Wes’s back. For the reunion, they’re sharing a hotel room like old times, still thick as thieves and just as wild—only now, the games are a little more grown-up.

Ryan just walked in to find Noah on his knees—let’s see where things go from here.

The door clicked shut behind Ryan.

None of us moved at first. The room had gone still — too still — like the air itself was holding its breath.

Wes sat rigid on the bed, towel loose around his hips, muscles tight, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile. His lips were parted, eyes flickering between me and the figure now standing behind me.

I was still on my knees. Mouth wet. One hand resting on Wes’s thigh, just shy of the hard shape straining under terrycloth. My own pulse was a steady pound in my ears.

And Ryan?

He stood in the doorway for a moment longer, tank top clinging to his chest, biceps full and tense from the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was damp, cheeks still flushed from the gym. One brow lifted as his gaze swept over us.

“The fuck did I just walk in on?” he said, voice low and even. Not angry. Not surprised, really. If anything—there was a flicker of something amused in his tone. Curious.

Wes fumbled for the towel, trying to pull it tighter, but the effort was pointless. His cock was already starting to swell again, tenting the fabric shamelessly. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, blinking up at Ryan.

He smirked when his eyes met mine. “You really were blowing him, huh?”

Wes didn’t answer. He just sat there, like someone had unplugged his brain. Ryan stepped inside and let the duffel fall onto the chair.

“Relax,” he said as he reached up, arms stretching high. His tank rode up just enough to show off slick abs and the sharp V of his hips. “I’m not mad. I just came from the gym. Pre-workout’s still ripping through me like jet fuel.”

He glanced between us again, slower this time. Taking it all in. Me on my knees. Wes flushed and wide-eyed. The towel doing a bad job of hiding everything. Ryan’s voice dropped slightly.

“I’m horny as fuck, honestly. But you guys… go on.”

He walked closer.

Just a step or two.

Wes straightened. “Wait, what?”

“I’ll just watch,” Ryan replied, like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed. Right next to Wes. Like he belonged there.

Wes looked at me, his eyes searching mine, as if waiting for me to panic or back out. But I didn’t move. I didn’t say anything.

I just looked at him. At the way his chest heaved. The way his cock twitched under the towel. Then I reached up and tugged the towel away.

It fell without resistance.

Wes’s cock sprang free — thick, flushed, and already leaking again.

Ryan let out a low whistle. “Jesus Wes, I didn't know my best mate was hiding that under there.”

I didn’t respond. I just leaned in, kissed Wes’s thigh, soft and slow, right where the towel had just been. My tongue followed the curve of muscle, warm and wet, and I could feel him shiver under my mouth. I didn’t rush. I let my hands explore his hips, held him still as I kissed lower.

Wes groaned. His fingers fisted the sheets beside him.

Ryan exhaled through his nose. “You’re fucking wild, bro. Didn’t know you had this in you.”

I dragged my tongue down between Wes’s legs, over his balls, taking one into my mouth and sucking gently while my hand stroked his shaft, slow and steady. He twitched. Moaned. His hips jerked once and I tightened my grip to keep him grounded.

I didn’t stop. Didn’t look up. Just kept going. Letting the room fill with wet sounds and Wes’s breathy curses.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ryan adjust himself. His hand lingered at the waistband of his gym shorts. He was hard — it was obvious now — a thick outline pressing against the fabric, straining as he watched.

Wes let out another moan, deeper this time, his hips trying to rock into my mouth. “This is fucking crazy,” he panted.

Ryan laughed softly. “It’s hot. That’s what it is.”

He shifted closer. I felt his thigh brush against mine. Still, I didn’t react. I stayed focused on Wes, on the way his abs tightened with every stroke, every flick of my tongue.

I opened my mouth wider and let Wes slide deeper between my lips.
Wes let out a broken moan, his hand clutching the edge of the mattress.

Then I felt Ryan lean forward.

His voice was right above me. “Let me help you, Noah.”

Part 6: Between Me, Him… and His Best Friend