Miles of Smiles
Miles came calling every day for the remainder of the holiday, appearing around lunch-time and shooting off home in time for tea. The back garden gate proved ideal for his visits, and if nothing else added a certain air of adventure to his secret visits, at least as far as he was concerned. I too was pleased to see him, not least because his continued visits meant that we hadn’t been found out.
For the first few days, after we’d embraced and kissed each other almost hungrily, we’d end up in bed trying to repeat that first mind-blowing time. We never quite managed it, although we came very close to it more than once. Then things began to slow down a bit, thank goodness – he was beginning to wear me out!
As we became more accustomed to each other, Miles and I always started off in the living room where he liked nothing better than to start by sitting on my knee, arms round my neck or waist and his head nestled comfortably on my shoulder. We spent ages like this, talking about whatever occurred to us, kissing and hugging whenever we wanted. He was a very tactile lad and enjoyed slipping his hands under my shirt and letting his fingers roam around. Needless to say, we would both be shirtless in next to no time, our skins making joyously erotic contact.
I think that he would have been satisfied by just being held and caressed most of the time, he thoroughly enjoyed the closeness and tenderness of it. Being 14 years old, he wouldn’t admit to it for a second though, especially as he knew there were other, more exciting things we could do. Not that the sex element was the overriding factor – indeed, I believe he looked on it as a sort of bonus, the icing on the cake so to speak. More often than not, we would end up in bed together, naked as the day we were born and entwined comfortably together, our conversation continuing on from where we’d left it. It was during one of these conversations that I gained a further insight to his nature.
We’d started off on my sofa and somehow the conversation had got round to girlfriends. He’d told me that he and Mike had been messing around a bit more than usual for a week or so, at Mike’s instigation it appeared.
“He’s got a girlfriend now,” he explained, “But she won’t, you know, do things with him. Not the sort of stuff he wants, anyway!” he giggled.
“Perhaps that’s a good thing,” I said. “We don’t want anything unfortunate to happen, do we?”
“No, it isn’t that. She won’t let him feel her properly, or even jack him off,” Miles laughed. “I think he’s just frustrated and I’m the next best thing!”
“Lucky you,” I smiled. “I don’t suppose you’re complaining.”
“No, not really. It isn’t the same as it used to be though. All he wants is a quick, err wank,” he said nervously, checking to see if I disapproved of his language. “He does it back to me though, but it isn’t the same. He does it more as a favour than ’cause he wants to.”
I nodded sagely, then added impishly, “Then you come round here for a proper one I suppose.”
This didn’t quite get the reaction I anticipated. Instead he looked at me seriously for a second, then kissed me properly.
“Come on,” he said, getting up off my knees.
That was the signal that he wanted to move to the bedroom.
Once comfortable in the double bed, he kissed me again and sighed happily.
“I suppose I’m like your girlfriend,” he said softly, looking at me.
I was puzzled for a moment as how best to answer this strange comment.
“You’re nothing like a girl,” I laughed, giving his balls a squeeze.
“No, I don’t mean that, silly!” he grinned. “We like to hug each other, kiss and cuddle and all that stuff don’t we?”
“Yeah, and so?” I asked.
“Well, that’s what Mike likes to do as well, but with his girl. But we can do a bit of sex stuff as well, which she won’t let him do. And that’s the best bit sometimes,” he said seriously. “He doesn’t like being touched up too much though, and he’d beat me to a pulp if I even thought about kissing him!”
Still not sure where the conversation was leading, I said, “Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to find a girl who will, when you get round to finding one.”
“Naah, I don’t want a girlfriend. They don’t make me feel the way I do with you and Mike. And you more than Mike. Lots more!” he laughed, hugging me tightly and depositing a kiss on my lips. “That’s what I meant when I said we are like boyfriend and girlfriend. I couldn’t say manfriend and boyfriend, could I? It doesn’t sound right.”
I agreed with him. I could think of several other words to describe our relationship, none of which were socially acceptable.
“So,” I said in an attempt to lighten the conversation, “You’re my boyfriend are you, and I’m your bit of stuff on the side?”
“If you want,” he replied seriously. “Boyfriend I meant. Not the other. You’re my … best friend,” he added lamely. “I can’t think of the proper word yet, but I will.”
Miles was being deadly serious I could tell. He was asking me to confirm our relationship, for us to be a lot more than just friends.
In something of a state of shock at his earnestness, and in his terms, plea, I said, “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
It came out wrong. I meant to sound forgiving and understanding, but it sounded more like an angry ‘don’t be stupid’ comment.
There was a stunned silence for a second or two as Miles absorbed what he’d heard me say.
“Bastard!” he suddenly shouted and began to hit me with his fists wherever he could reach.
Taken completely by surprise at this sudden turn of events, I was subjected to a torrent of verbal abuse as well as flailing fists, the obscenities, mixed with tears, hurting more than the beating.
Gripping him firmly round the chest, I held on to him tightly until he stopped struggling.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “It came out all wrong.”
I felt him relax just a little and eased my grip. Cautiously I let go with one hand and wiped away his tears whilst I tried to think of something to say. The vehemence of his reaction had astounded me. Inwardly, I knew just how much I cared for him, almost loved him in fact. The possibility that he actually felt even remotely the same way about me hadn’t crossed my mind. I started to speak softly to him, not having a clue what I was going to say.
“You’re here in my bed,” I said quietly. “And we’re both naked. What does that tell you? I think that makes us friends, don’t you? More than friends if you want.” I paused and kissed him lightly on his forehead. “You know more about me than any other person on the planet, and I trust you with it. There is nothing I would like more than for you and me to be the best friends ever. Ever.” I emphasised. “But you know how difficult that’s going to be, no matter how much we want it. And I want it very much.”
He looked up at me and nodded ever so slightly.
“So, you can be my boy friend and I can be your …. partner,” I said inspirationally.
This raised a half-smile at last. “Promise? Honest?” he whispered.
“Promise,” I said, and truly meant it. “But that’s two words. Boy and friend, not boyfriend.
“Whatever,” he replied. “You can’t make me think of it as two words if I don’t want to!”
“That’s your problem, not mine,” I said, stroking his cheeks.
That raised a bigger smile and he cuddled up closer to me.
“Sorry about that,” he whispered. “But you really frightened me. I thought you were going to dump me or something.”
We spent the next half-hour talking about ourselves: the problems that, hopefully, we would never meet and the happiness that we already had. Finally, we settled our differences with a kiss-fest, taken much more tenderly and passionately than we’d ever done, knowing that to all intents and purposes, we were now ‘a couple’.
Miles was ready to leave some time later and we were having a last embrace in the hallway when he flashed his grin and me and said, “Do you know, I didn’t even cum once today!”
“Got time for a quickie?” I joked, glancing at my watch.
“Nahh,” he laughed. “Don’t matter, I feel even better than if I had. But you gotta make me do it twice tomorrow to make up for it!”
Amazed at the resilience teenagers had, I ruffled his hair and pushed him out the door.
True to his word, Miles appeared shortly after lunch the following day. I was reading in the lounge when I heard tap at the back door, followed closely by a ‘Hi!’
“Hi yourself!” I called out to him, letting him know where I was at the same time.
He came into the lounge from behind me, put his hands on my shoulders and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. Squeezing a hand, I asked how he was.
“Fine, thanks,” he said glancing at the book I was reading.
“Boring!” he grinned and climbed over the sofa to sit beside me.
“You’d better get to like it, its your set book for next term.”
That got me a non-committal grunt and an “Any good?”
“Pickwick Papers. Charles Dickens. Yeah, I think so.”
Putting the book down, I opened my arms, inviting him to take up his usual position. Grinning happily, he bounced onto my lap and ferreted his arms under my T-shirt.
“Friends?” I smiled at him.
“And partners!” he replied. “Carry on reading if you want, it’s OK just sitting here if you don’t mind.”
I picked the book up again and started to read. It lasted all of two minutes before he removed his shirt and made me take mine off.
“School next week,” he mumbled. “What we gonna do?”
“Read Charles Dickens,” I said, waving the book at him.
“Not that, silly! You know, about … about us.”
Putting the book down, I cuddled him properly and gave him my full attention.
“I don’t know,” I told him. “But we can’t meet every day, not outside school anyway. And I don’t think we should spend any time together whilst we’re at school either.”
“No, I suppose you’re right. Gonna be hard though.” Then, realising what he’d said, added, “And I don’t mean that either!”
“That still leaves us the week-ends,” I reminded him.
“And Friday nights,” he added significantly.
“Won’t your parents want to know where you are?”
“No, not Fridays. They assume I’m out with my mates and as long as I’m home before ten, they don’t bother.”
“What about Mike? Won’t he wonder where you are?”
“Naah. I see him every day at school and we sometimes go to his house on the way home from school. In any case, he’s with his girl Friday nights.”
“Doesn’t he ask where you go?” I asked. “I thought you were best friends.”
“Second best,” he giggled, looking at me. “I tell him I go to Brian’s house, like I have all the holidays when I’ve been coming here.”
“Brian? Whose Brian?” I asked, racking my brain for the name.
“My imaginary friend I invented so’s he wouldn’t ask me where I was all the time I was here.” Miles sniggered.
“Clever idea, as long as he doesn’t ever want to meet him.”
“Covered!” Miles sniggered. “He can always move house or something. I told Mike he was ill this morning and that’s why I was there.”
“You saw him this morning? How is he?”
“OK, I guess. Still full of Sandra though. Wanted me to jack him off again.”
“And did you?”
“Only after he begged me! He was so desperate he even offered to make me cum first, but I told him I’d only just done it before I came out and didn’t want to do it again so quick.”
“And did you? Jack off before you came out,” I said.
“No, course not. I saved it, we gotta do it twice today. Remember?”
Shit! I’d forgotten that: not that I was complaining of course.
The conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence with Miles sneaking the occasional kiss. He could’ve been a ten-year-old the way he loved nestling up to me at times like this, particularly when he flashed a conspiratorial grin at me once in a while.
Slowly the effect of his wriggling about on my knee and his fingers on my chest did their work and my cock began to stir.
“You ready yet?” he said as innocently as he could, bearing in mind his own boner was now making its presence very noticeable.
“Come on then,” I sighed dramatically. “Might as well as get it over with.”
“Boll ….” he stopped himself just in time, satisfying himself by dragging me up from the sofa.
“What time you got to get home by?” I asked as we undressed.
“ ‘Bout six for tea, but I’ll be out later. It’s Friday.”
“Going anywhere special?”
“No. Nothing planned. Can I come round here?” he suddenly asked, as if the idea had just struck him. “Please?” he whined as we snuggled up together.
“I’ll see,” I replied, avoiding answering him directly and to divert his attention, snaked a hand down to his groin.
Grasping his hardening cock in my hand, I held it lightly, delighting in feeling it grow under my touch until it was solidly hard, filling my whole fist.
“That’s better!” I whispered in Miles’ ear.
We both knew the rules by now: it was OK for me to hold him like this, and for him to rest his hand in my groin as he was now, but anything more than that would spoil things. As Miles has astutely pointed out, it wasn’t just the sex that bonded us, it was a closeness and mutual enjoyment of each other’s company. Being naked together added an extra dimension to our friendship, one which demonstrated a deep trust of each other and a desire to fulfil unspoken needs on both our parts. I’d never had what you might call a long-term relationship with anyone, but I’d often wondered what it would be like living with someone – sharing your home, your life and your bed. The thought terrified me in some ways: I’m not at all sure that I could commit myself to anything like that. On the other hand, the idea of someone such as Miles (if he were five years older!) living with me had a certain appeal to it. That I could cope with. In fact the thought that he and I had agreed not to meet during the school week, that I was forced to be alone and celibate wasn’t a nice one. And if it was going to be hard for me, what must it be like for Miles?
I was snapped out of my reverie by Miles shifting position.
“What you thinking about?” he asked once he’d arranged himself on top of me. “You’ve gone all quiet.”
“Oh, nothing really,” I lied. “Just thinking.”
“Pig!” he grinned. “So I’m nothing, am I? I’ll get dressed and go home if you like.”
“Don’t you dare!” I replied, hugging him as tightly as I could and depositing a deep kiss on his lips.
Naturally, one thing led to another and the floodgates were opened. Miles returned the kiss with interest and a determined tongue-lashing. Before long it became apparent that he was losing self-control: not only was he kissing me almost violently, but his hips were thrusting back and forth in a way which could only mean one thing.
Forcing us apart, I looked at his flushed, sweat-beaded face and stroked his hair.
“Now,” he said, moving up to kneel astride my body. “Do it now. Quick.”
Not having any real option, I absorbed the leaking cock pressing urgently against my lips. Even before I’d made myself comfortable, he was fucking my face frantically. He was totally spaced out and intent on only one thing. Each thrust was accompanied by a deep groan of satisfaction: a groan which would’ve been a scream had he not had his bottom lip gripped between his teeth.
I did nothing to stop him – it would have been impossible anyway – and let him work it through. Which took all of thirty seconds. As he ejaculated heavily into my throat, he let out the yell he’d been trying to stifle.
“Jesus!” he sighed once he’d got over the trauma. “That’s the second time it’s been like that. I thought my heart was gonna burst!”
“Don’t panic!” I laughed. “As long as you enjoyed it.”
“Not sure about that. It all happened so quick, I didn’t get time to think about it!”
“That’s a pity ’cause I did,” I joked.
In fact I hadn’t liked it at all in some ways. It was all over too fast, Miles seemed as as if he was possessed by a demon of sorts and there was no way could he have got any enjoyment out of it. The only good thing was that he’d recovered quickly and seemed none the worse for the experience.
“Glad you liked it,” he said. “But don’t forget you’ve gotta do it again for me. Remember, you promised.”
I don’t remember the ‘promising’ bit, but I wasn’t about to complain though, it was something to look forward to.
“You ever been sucked?” Miles asked out of the blue as he fondled my erection thoughtfully.
“Not for ages,” I answered. “I can’t even remember when.”
And that was true. OK, it must’ve been during my last year at college sometime as I can picture the room I was in. My partner was a guy I’d met in the local pub and only had a hazy image of him after all this time. The thing I remember most about him was that he liked to be fucked, but would rarely return the favour – a blow job was about as far as he would go. Still, he was fun to be with and we had a good time together for my last few months at university.
We’d never talked about my own experiences: not for any reason other than we’d just never got round to it. I had nothing to hide from Miles, my sex life had been pretty vanilla ever since I accepted the fact that I was gay at about the age of 16 or so. To start with I’d had quite a few secretive sessions with school-mates, taken and given with no real commitment or emotion. Then, up until I went to university I’d had a few more relationships which lasted longer, but again nothing serious. I didn’t have the courage to join the LGBT society at university, although I hovered around the edge of it, sticking with the same three or four people all through my course. To be honest, I knew that I couldn’t manage a long-term relationship, my experiences and natural character just wouldn’t let me – I was too afraid of letting anyone get that close to me.
I didn’t explain all this to Miles; he was too immature to understand most of it, I simply told him the things I thought he’d understand. He was different to me in so many ways. To begin with, he had accepted his sexual orientation a lot easier than I had, and was unafraid of it. OK, society has changed a lot since I was his age, and people are more tolerant of ‘gays’ than they used to be, at least they are on the surface: scratch down a little and homophobia is still there, as we both knew.
Hence my attraction for Miles. Despite his age, he was the first person I felt I was able to open up to and have a chance of being understood. On the surface he was a happy-go-lucky teenager, taking life as it came and enjoying it. Beneath that exterior was a thoughtful, intelligent boy who realised he was different to his mates, took steps to make sure that they never saw that side of him and yet, given the chance, was able to let his feelings go.
“So,” Miles went on. “What sort of stuff do you like doing? You haven’t ever told me that.”
“I like doing just what we’ve been doing. You know, holding, touching, messing about sort of thing. Being like we are now.” I gave him a kiss on his forehead and ran my fingers down his spine, to emphasise my point. He giggled and stuck his tongue out at me.
“Blow job?” he asked, raising himself up on his arms to look at me.
“What now? You can’t want another one so soon!”
“Not me, dopey. You. Do you want one?”
“You sure?” I asked, a little surprised at the sudden request.
“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t. ‘Course I’m sure.”
There was that edge to his voice that told me he was being deadly serious. He was offering something that in his view would make us equal, something that he wanted just as much as I did. To refuse him would put our relationship back, probably irretrievably, and might even cause him to lose his temper again. In any case, I wasn’t about to turn him down – suddenly his idea seemed the best one since sliced bread.
He opted for the same position that we’d adopted before, with me knelt astride him this time. Gingerly he put his hand round my shaft and examined it in minute detail, all the while licking his lips in anticipation.
“You’re bigger than Mike,” he mused, and before I could comment, added, “Not much though!”
“That’s right,” I laughed, “Make me feel better, why don’t you?”
At least he had the grace to blush slightly as he realised what he’d said. “Sorry!” he giggled. “Didn’t mean it.”
All conversation dropped as he experimentally took the crown of my cock into his mouth. Then took it out, stared at the saliva-covered foreskin for a second or two and replaced it, taking as much of it in as he could. I heard him purr as he set his tongue to work, one hand cupping my balls as he did so. Being the novice that he was, it took him a minute or two to get the rhythm right, but once discovered, he set to with a will. A couple of times he coughed as my dick reached his throat, but he eagerly he took me back again as soon as the fit had passed.
I’ve written about BJ’s times without number in the stories I’ve penned, each time trying to describe the sensations as best I could. Now, as Miles gave me the best BJ I could remember, I realised the futility of it. No words can describe the feelings, the all-enveloping aura and the other-worldliness you disappear into as a warm mouth and busy tongue become the centre of your universe. I leaned forwards, put my hands either side of Miles’ head and started to thrust in and out, my moans and groans matching his.
I forced my eyes open and looked down at the angel who was giving me such exquisite pleasure. His brow was beaded with sweat, his elfin-face a mask of concentration. From his mouth, a dribble of saliva ran down to his chin – a chin which wouldn’t see a razor for at least another year, if not more. This last thought brought me to the edge.
“Cumming!” I managed to stammer out, getting ready to pull out.
I got a curt nod from Miles and a pair of hands reaching round to my butt, stopping me from pulling back.
Then I erupted, firing everything I had into that beautiful face. Six, seven times? I’ve no idea – I wasn’t counting. Miles coughed a couple of times, let me go and wiped another dribble from his chin – and this time it wasn’t saliva.
“Bloody hell!” he grinned between coughs. “That was good!”
He was like the cat that got the cream. I was getting to know Miles well enough to know that when he was excited, or very pleased with himself, he rambled, saying the first things that came into his head, most of it amusing nonsense.
“Miles,” I said, putting a finger on his lips. “Shut up!”
He grinned sheepishly and did as he was told. For ten seconds.
“But …..” he started to say.
This time I put my lips against his. Bad mistake. Suddenly the energy he’d put into his excited gabbling was diverted to his body, and I found myself subjected to a serious kiss-fest and a wandering of hands which seemed to be everywhere at once. Giving up any attempt to slow him down, I lay back and let him get on with it.
Just as quickly as it had arrived, his nervous energy disappeared and Miles collapsed beside me, breathing a little ragged and his chest heaving. Still that smile though: a happy, contented, ‘I did it!’ smile. Then he slipped into a much-needed doze, an arm across my chest and his head on my shoulder.
I woke him at just turned five o’clock.
“Time you weren’t here,” I said, stroking his nipples.
Glancing at the clock, he pulled a grimace and yawned widely.
“I don’t wanna move,” he sighed, stretching his arms.
Leaning over, I put an arm under his legs and threw them off the bed.
“Bastard!” he grinned, struggling to his feet.
I watched as he dressed, his clothing hiding more and more of his lovely body. Once finished, he sat on the bed, gave me a hug and told me that he’d be back after tea.
I raised my eyebrows questioningly. “You sure? Don’t you have anywhere else to go?”
Thankfully, he took this the right way and simply said that there wasn’t. “I’ll bring a DVD for us to watch.” he added.
True to his word, he re-appeared just after seven o’clock, freshly cleaned and dressed for the cooler night-time temperature. We hugged lightly and settled down on my sofa, Miles depositing a chaste kiss on my cheek.
After our somewhat energetic afternoon, I hoped that Miles was in a calmer, more easy-going mood than he was earlier; I don’t think I could’ve coped with another round such as the one we’d had before.
As he cuddled up to me, I detected a slight scent of aftershave, one which I hadn’t noticed when he kissed me. I smiled inwardly, pleased that he thought enough about me to make that little extra effort.
“What film have you brought?” I asked. “Any good?”
“Harry Potter,” he smiled. “All of ’em.”
“OK. Which one we going to watch?”
He chose one from the box and put it in the DVD player, but before he started it, he went round the lounge, drawing the curtains and switching the overhead lights off, leaving just the small wall-lights burning.
Grabbing the remote-control, he lay full-length on the sofa, put his head on my lap and started the film.
“This’s good,” he said, getting himself comfortable. “This’s how you should watch films.”
Thankfully, it appeared that he wanted a quiet evening in front of the TV, which I was more than happy to go along with. The only thing he did was undo his shirt, put my hand against his bare chest and hold it there.
About half an hour into the film I suddenly felt the desperate need to go to the toilet. Reluctantly, Miles paused the film whilst I attended to my needs, which I did as quickly as I could. When I got back, Miles made room for me and I made to put my hand back where it was. Accidentally, I brushed up against his groin and was surprised to see him wince as if he was in pain.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.
He grimaced slightly and said nothing.
“Well?” I asked again. “Tell me. What’ve you done?”
“You’ll laugh if I tell you,” he said, half grinning.
Relieved that it didn’t appear to be serious, I looked at him.
“I had a shower just before I came out and I thought I’d use a bit of aftershave.”
“I sort of smell it a little,” I said.
“I didn’t just put it on my face,” he said, grinning widely.
“You didn’t!” I laughed. “What? Down ……” I indicated his groin.
He nodded sheepishly.
“Hurt like f …. Like Hell!” he stuttered. “It wasn’t funny!”
“Come on, show me,” I giggled.
He dropped his trousers and pants to reveal his soft prick and loose balls. The smell of after-shave was almost overpowering as his nether regions were exposed to the fresh air. At the base of his cock, where his hairs were just beginning to grow was a bright pink area, obviously the source of his discomfort. Together we stared at it. Gently I reached out a finger and touched it. Miles yelped and pulled backwards.
“Don’t!” he sniggered. “It’s bloody tender!”
“So that means sex is out of the question, then?” I laughed.
“ ‘Spose so,” he said, “At least until the pain goes away.”
“Oh, that could be ages yet. I did it once, and it took a week to get better.”
“What?” he almost shouted. “A week. A whole fuckin’ week?”
Then he realised I was making fun of him. Giving me a playful punch on my arm, he glared at me in mock displeasure, lay back on the sofa and re-started the film, leaving his pants and trousers down by his ankles where they caused less chafing. Casually I dropped a hand onto his bare thigh and let it rest there, watching his dick rise slowly up to full mast. I received a stare which told me ‘You can look, but don’t you dare touch!’
And that was how we stayed until the film ended, Miles’ dick only half-softening for the entire duration. I, naturally, was just as erect as he was – the sight of a beautiful adolescent dick just inches from my itching fingers being almost too much to bear.
It was around nine o’clock when the film finished, which meant we had about an hour before he had to leave. Sex was off the agenda, but kissing and cuddling weren’t and we spent a luxurious hour chatting and caressing each other as the whim took us. In it’s own way it was just as satisfying as being in bed together – we were able to talk freely and easily, knowing that sex was off limits, at least for tonight.
For the second time that day, I watched Miles dress himself ready to go home. As I stared at him, I was suddenly overcome by an intense feeling of affection for him. An affection bordering on the edge of …. I stopped myself from thinking the unthinkable. Instead, I put my arms round him, kissed his neck and whispered, “You’re not a boy. You’re a very attractive young man and I like you very much.”
Miles paused and I felt him stiffen under my touch.
“You mean that?” he said quietly, looking straight at me.
“I mean it.”
He reached up and kissed me hard, a tear or two escaping from his eyes then turned to leave.
He almost ran to the door, threw it open and said, “ I ……. you!”
I didn’t quite catch what he’d said as the sound of the door slamming drowned out his words, but I’m sure he used the word I was frightened of.
Feedback is the only payment our authors get!
Please take a moment to email the author if you enjoyed the story.