Miles of Smiles
by Alexander


Chapter 6

Thankfully, the following day was Saturday which meant I could get up when I wanted, and as I’d

spent a very sleepless night turning things over and over in my mind, it was after ten when I eventually fell out of bed. I hadn’t come to any conclusions whatsoever as what to do about Miles. I was in a Catch-22 situation: damned if I do and damned if I don’t, and consequently elected to do nothing, at least for the time being.

As I drifted around the flat cleaning and tidying, I became aware that I was thinking of Miles almost constantly, not in a serious way, but thinking that I was now making my home presentable for two people, and not just myself. Stupid, I know, but it made me feel better and I even put a bit of extra effort into it.

The week-ends were flexible as far as Miles and I meeting were concerned. He knew that I pottered about the flat on Saturdays and did my domestic shopping on Sundays. Miles never knew what he was doing until it happened: if he wasn’t dragged out shopping by his mother, he would be at Mikes catching up on his news, or out riding his bike. If he came to see me, it would be after one o’clock, once he’d eaten. Today, I wasn’t sure if he’d come at all.

One o’clock came and went and there was no sign of him. I began to fret and found myself pacing up and down the living room, with an occasional trip to look out of the kitchen window to see if I could spot him coming over the field. I forced myself to calm down and sat on the sofa, staring at the blank TV. Idly I flicked the remote on and was startled to see the Harry Potter film start again.

Having nothing better to do, I swapped it for the next one in his collection and started to watch it.

It must’ve been half an hour later that I heard a tap on the back door and the sound of it opening. Swinging my legs round off the sofa, I was about to stand up to investigate when Miles came in.

“Hiya!” he said as he walked across to me.

Instead of hugging and giving me a kiss, he put his arms round my waist, gave a nominal squeeze and went to sit in one of the easy chairs.

There was something wrong: he was much quieter than usual and seemed pre-occupied.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

He stared down at his feet and mumbled something I couldn’t hear.

“What?” I asked quietly. “I didn’t catch what you said.”

This time he looked at me and repeated, “Sorry about last night. ‘Bout what I said.”

“Said? What did you say? When?”

“You know, when I left to go home. I said that ……” he paused. “Said that I …. liked you a lot.”

“Oh, so that’s what you said,” I told him, relieved that that was all he was worried about. “I didn’t hear what you said, you closed the door at the same time.”

He looked at me questioningly, trying to see if I was telling the truth. His face brightened a little and he asked if I was sure.

I opened my arms, inviting him to join me on the sofa. Slowly he got up and moved across, choosing to sit on the edge rather than lay with me. Putting my arms round his waist, I leaned over and kissed his neck. “Honestly. I didn’t hear what you said.”

“I thought you’d be pissed off with me for saying it. That’s why I’m late, I wasn’t sure if I was gonna come at all.”

“It’s OK for two people to .. like .. each other,” I told him. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

I stressed the word ‘like’ – by now we both knew what word he’d actually used and there was no need to embarrass him further by repeating it.

“I’m getting to like you a lot too,” I grinned, pulling him down onto the sofa.

He looked into my eyes for a second and in that instant we both knew.

We hugged each other properly this time and he settled himself, arms and head in their accustomed places.

“What film were you watching?” he asked, pressing the remote. “Oh that!” he grinned. “I forgot them, didn’t I?”

The awkwardness was gone now. Whatever the bridge was, it’d been crossed and we were happy again. At least Miles was: he hadn’t helped my problem in the slightest, but I couldn’t have cared less at that point. He was here and that was all that mattered. I moved a hand to his chest and ran a finger round a shirt-covered nipple.

Giggling, Miles unbuttoned his shirt and replaced my hand.

“So,” I said during a lull in the film, “Aftershave problem gone?”

“Yeah,” he sniggered. “Shan’t do that again in a hurry!”

“Everything working properly then?”

“Think so. The rash’s gone and I pissed OK. So I guess it is.”

I raised my eyebrows, letting the unasked question hang in the air.

That got another giggle. “I haven’t tried that yet. Maybe later.”

I would’ve loved to try it out now but I’d always let Miles start the ball rolling with that sort of thing and I wasn’t about to change things. My dick had other ideas though and I had to get Miles to lift his head up a bit so I could re-arrange things a little. That earned me a wicked smile and a knowing leer.

“Your fault!” I laughed “You have that effect.”

Taking my hand from his chest, he placed it in his groin, allowing me to feel his own growing erection through the thin material.

Evidently that was as far as he wanted to go for now as he made no effort to loosen his trousers or anything. Having made sure he was now fully hard, and resisting temptation I put my hand back on his chest.

“Mmmm,” he sighed, wriggling down further. “That’s nice.”

It was too: knowing that we could go further if we wanted was enough for the time being. Sliding my hand down from his pert little nipples, I tickled around his navel, eliciting a delicious giggle and shiver from him.

“Pack it up! That tickles!” he laughed, dragging my hand away.

Leaning upwards, he kissed me lightly on the lips before putting both his arms round my neck and kissing me more fervently. Backing off, he gazed at me, his eyes now sparkling bright.

“Good,” he said enigmatically. “Very good!” and we kissed again.

“Shirt,” he whispered, lifting my T-shirt up.

Obligingly, I pulled it over my head and cuddled him closely, our naked chests pressing together once more, sending a thrill throughout my body which caused me to shudder.

“Cold?” he asked.

“No.” I sighed, “Just happy.”

“Wait there,” he suddenly said, and jumped off the sofa. He returned a few seconds later having grabbed the duvet off the bed I’d just made.

“Lay down properly,” he commanded, holding the cover in front of him.

I did as I was told and was delighted to see Miles lay down in front of me, wrap the duvet over us and snuggle up, out faces inches apart. I half rolled over and let Miles stretch out almost on top of me, a leg nestled between mine.

“Perfect!” he sighed. “This’s really nice.”

As a reward he gave me a tender kiss, his face beaming and eyes wide open.

I laughed lightly at him, kissed him back and stroked his hair.

“What you laughing at?” he asked.

“You. You never stop smiling.”

He wrinkled his nose, rubbed it with the back of his hand and said, “Well, it’s better than being grumpy anyway. Gets me in trouble sometimes though.”


“Well, I suppose it’s sort of normal for me to smile, like some people look miserable all the time, even when they aren’t. Trouble is I also smile when I’m in trouble; sort of a nervous reaction and it pisses people off.”

“I can understand that. You’ve done it in class a couple of times, I thought you were being sarcastic or something.”

“And you didn’t bollock me for it? Why not?”

“No need. I’d given you a telling off and that was it. I just assumed that the grin wasn’t meant to be funny.”

We talked for a while about nothing in particular and then Miles turned over, switched the CD player on again and we began to watch the rest of the film.

My dick has more or less softened all the time we were chatting, but the feel of Miles’ butt pressing against it soon changed that, especially as I wasn’t wearing any pants under my joggers. Miles felt it too, giggled slightly and wiggled his bum until it was nestled between his cheeks.

A minute or two later he put my hand back in his groin, still outside his trousers though, and sighed contentedly. Evidently this wasn’t enough for him as after a minute or two he unfastened his trousers, slipped my hand under the waistband of his undies and allowed me to cradle his dick and balls in my fingers.

“You ever – you know,” he murmured, pressing his butt against my dick a couple of times to make the point.

“Years ago,” I said. “When I was about 16 or 17 I think.”

“Like it?”

I don’t think for a minute that he wanted us to go down that road – we’d never even talked about that sort of thing. From the way he asked, I guessed it was just idle curiosity and to be expected from a hormone-ridden teenager.

“Not much,” I replied honestly.

My mind flashed back to the summer in between leaving school and going to college, and my first attempt. I was friendly with a boy called Derryk at the time and we’d had quite a few jerk-off sessions together, mostly in his bedroom when the parents were out. On the whole they were good fun and enjoyed greatly by us both. This one day we both felt randier than usual and had got naked on his bed, and for reasons unknown, it suddenly seemed like a good idea for us to give it a go. Being naive and innocent, we hadn’t a clue about lubrication or foreplay and such, so the attempt was a disaster. It didn’t piss us off too much though as we stayed mates until we went our separate ways at the end of that summer. It was a couple of years later that I was shown how to do it properly, but never enjoyed it very much.

“Can’t see as it can be much fun,” Miles went on. “Must hurt like fuck.”

“You’re right, I don’t like it very much. I’m much happier doing what we do.”

“Mmmm,” he sighed, squeezing his buns together.

He was back in talkative mode now and for an hour or so we prattled on about all things sexual that boys usually reserved for secretive ‘behind of the cycle shed’ conversations. Miles already knew a great deal of course – after all he had read a lot of stuff on the net. He was short on practical experience, naturally, and was still emotionally fairly immature. He was aware though. And interested.

“It must be nice living with someone,” he rambled on. “Living properly, I mean. Sharing a bed and stuff.”

“You’ve had sleep-overs with Michael,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, but it ain’t the same. You can’t touch each other and mess about like we do. At least not much. You can wank each other off, but that’s sorta expected and once you’ve done it, you go to sleep. You definitely can’t get undressed and cuddle each other all night,” he giggled. “Not with Mike anyway, he’d freak out if he even knew you were thinking about it!”

“Must be frustrating,” I said, giving his balls a squeeze.

“Tell me about it. The last time I had to jerk off again after he was asleep, just thinking about it.”

“Randy sod!” I laughed.

“Piss off!” he sniggered.

Turning over, he planted a kiss on my lips and snuggled up, letting his pent-up emotions express themselves through his tender caresses.

We hadn’t let our hands wander any further down than our waists – in fact we were still wearing our joggers and trousers. Erections were felt though, our dicks squashing against each other every time we kissed. Because of Miles superbly erotic stimulations, I’d come dangerously close to blowing my load a couple of times, but somehow had managed to hold them back. Not so Miles unfortunately. We were embracing each other when I felt Miles hips thrust at me in a way which could only mean one thing.

“Bollocks! Fuck it!” he said, his flash of anger giving way instantly to a fit of the giggles.

Sitting up, he dropped his trousers and pants, and stared at the sticky mess covering his crotch.

“Shit!” he whispered. “Now what do I do?”

Somehow he hobbled off to the bathroom to clean himself up whilst I went in search of some underwear for him. They would be big on him of course, but not so large as to create a problem I thought.

“Got some clean pants for you,” I shouted from the bedroom. “And the aftershave is on the shelf!” I added evilly.

That earned me a heartfelt “Piss off!”

I dropped the soiled ones in warm water and promised to wash them properly for tomorrow.

“You’ll be OK now?” I asked, putting an arm over his shoulder and checking how well the pants fitted.

“Yes, thanks. As long as mum doesn’t see ’em!”

As it was almost his tea-time, he decided to leave now anyway, mostly so he could change and to get ready to go out that night.

“Where you going?” I asked.

“Pictures with Mike and Sandra. And her sister.” He pulled a face to show his distaste at the thought. “Still,” he grinned, “If I keep your undies on, I’ll have a hard-on all night, so that’ll be OK!”

I ruffled his hair, kissed him once again and watched him leave.


Once I’d sorted his pants out, I poured myself a healthy-sized glass of scotch, turned the TV on and relaxed. I was at peace with the world. I half-watched the undemanding rubbish on the television and let my mind wander. The awkward situation with Miles seemed less of a problem now as I had the utmost confidence in his ability to keep it secret – he understood absolutely the imperative need to keep it under very tight wraps. More than that, we had developed a closeness that was important to him and I knew he wouldn’t want to jeopardise that in the slightest. I’d also been honest with him, even to the point of brutality sometimes. The conversations we’d had the past couple of days had strengthened our bond noticeably, and I was feeling much happier with the whole situation.

Idly, I contemplated what his home life must be like. I knew he was from what I would call a ‘middle-class’ family: his address and quality of clothes told me that. His manners were good, as was his speech on the whole. His parents I knew nothing about. I must’ve met them at one or other of the school functions, but I couldn’t picture them. The only thing I knew of them was that they both worked, his mother part-time. What they did I hadn’t a clue. As far as Miles went, they trusted him, gave him a fair degree of freedom, kept a watch on where he went and what he did, but only from a distance. All that would change instantly of course if ever they found out exactly where he went and what he was doing – another incentive for Miles to keep his act together.

As I lay in bed later that night, I wondered if there was any way I could ‘legitimise’ our friendship, at least as far as his parents were concerned. I would feel a lot happier if they knew were we were meeting once in a while and were comfortable with it. But how? I drifted off to sleep with all sorts of ideas buzzing round my head, some fantastical, others idiotic, and none of them realistic.

It was a couple of weeks later that serendipity took a hand. I was wandering round the local supermarket one Sunday when I was suddenly accosted by a familiar voice.

“Hello, Sir!” I heard as I dropped a frozen pizza in my cart.

I damned-near had a heart attack as I spun round and saw a beaming Miles in front of me, his parents close behind.

“Hello Miles,” I stammered out, rapidly trying to gather my wits together.

I looked in confusion at his parents, who seemed almost as nervous as I was.

“Sorry about this,” Miles’ father said, putting a hand out. “Miles saw you and he just had to say hello.”

“That’s alright. Pleased to meet you,” I lied as I took his hand – the same hand that had been wrapped round his son’s cock not 12 hours before I realised incongruously.

“Likewise,” he grinned – the same one I’d seen so often from his son. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m John and this’s my wife, Sheila.”

I shook her hand too, uncomfortably aware that Miles was stood just behind her, giving me a look of pure angelic innocence.

“Hello,” I repeated. “I’m Alec. Alec Wilson.”

“Hello.” she said cheerily. “ Glad to meet you. What do you teach this reprobate son of ours?”

“English mostly,” I said. “And a bit of Geography once in a while.”

“Any good is he?” his dad asked, ruffling Miles’ hair.

“Yes. He’s OK. Not brilliant, but he’ll do,” I managed to say. “Enough to hold his own anyway.”

Acutely aware of the unintended double entendre, I avoided looking directly at Miles who was now stifling a serious case of the giggles.

“We didn’t think he was much good at anything until this year,” his mother laughed, “but he’s picked up thank goodness, especially in English. I hope it’s not too late for him.”

“No, I don’t think so, as long as he keeps working.”

“Would extra lessons help?” his father chimed in. “We wouldn’t mind if it would help.”

“They probably would, but we’re not allowed to take on pupils outside the school,” I said.

We weren’t either. It was a fixed and immutable policy of the Education Authority that no teachers taught their own pupils outside of their normal school commitment, for fairly obvious reasons.

“Pity,” he said. “Still, it can’t be helped.”

We chatted for a minute or two more before parting company, me for one heaving a massive sigh of relief. Miles, wisely, avoided looking at me.

‘At least,’ I thought to myself once I’d recovered, ‘they don’t seem to know anything about me and Miles thank God.’ It was with a much lighter heart that I finished my shopping, gulped down a cup of insipid coffee in the cafeteria and headed homewards.


I was busy marking some books later that day when Miles appeared. Glancing down at them, and having made sure his wasn’t among them, he pecked me on the cheek and sat on the sofa waiting for me to finish. Evidently I was taking too long for him. Pushing the books away, he sat on my knee and kissed me again.

“You should’ve seen your face this morning!” he laughed. “I thought you were going to have a heart attack.”

“I almost did. It wasn’t a very pleasant experience.”

“Don’t suppose it was. Sorry about that, I didn’t even know where we were going myself until we got there. Still, went OK though, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess so. They’re nice people, your parents.”

“ ‘Spose they are. Dad can be funny at times, and mum can be bitchy, but they’re OK. And they didn’t have a clue who you were until I told ’em.”

He was obviously pleased with himself having kept our friendship from them so well, and he wanted me to know it. I must admit that I admired him in that respect, it couldn’t have been easy for him at times.

“They like you,” he went on. “Dad said you’ve got a firm handshake, which he thinks is a good sign for some reason or other.”

“If only he knew,” I said, giving Miles a squeeze.

“Knew what?”

“When we shook hands, I remembered where it had been a few hours before.”

Miles looked puzzled and shook his head. I put my hand on his cock and squeezed it.

“Oh!” Miles said, blushing. “That! I don’t think he’d be too impressed if he knew.”

“You could be right there,” I laughed. “Anyway, let me finish this marking and then we’ll talk.”

Miles jumped off my knee and pushed the books back to me. “Tea?” he asked.

I nodded and picked up my pen. Five minutes later he came in carrying a tray of tea and some sandwiches for us both. I was only mildly surprised to realise he knew the way around my kitchen as well as I did.

A comfortable peace reigned for the next hour or so as I finished my work and Miles watched something on the History channel. With a sigh, I closed the last book, dropped the pen on the table and stretched.

Miles, picking up the signal, made room for me on the sofa, removing his T-shirt at the same time. Grateful for the change, I took mine off and joined him.

“Better!” he sighed as he wrapped his arms round me. “Kiss?”

The wait was worth it. Usually I dislike marking as it can be tedious and boring, but for some reason it’d gone easily today. It only took a second to work out why – the presence of Miles in the room and the promise of a reward afterwards made the time pass quickly. For an instant, I wondered what it would be like if he were here all the time, and not just on the odd occasion we could snatch some time together. Shaking my head to clear the ludicrous thought, I kissed him tenderly and gave him a hug.

Miles looked at me quizzically but didn’t say anything: he must’ve sensed something.

“What you thinking?” he whispered.

“Nothing,” I lied and embraced him.

He knew I wasn’t telling the truth, but all he did was shrug his shoulders, give me a smile and nestled down again.

Before too long our boners were pressing against one another and Miles reached down, unfastened his trousers and moved his dick out of the way.

“Wanna move somewhere else?” I whispered.

“No, not unless you want to,” he replied. “I’m too comfortable here. You can hold it if you want though.”

Gratefully I slid a hand into his trousers, grasped my prize and sighed contentedly.

“Done any writing lately?” he asked lazily after a minute or two.

“No, not really. Just finishing off a couple of short stories. You?”

“No. I’ve been too busy!” he giggled. “I don’t seem to have been home very much. In any case, it’s not the same.”

I was far too relaxed and comfortable to think about what he’d said, and replied, “What isn’t the same?”

“Writing about it, and doing it,” he said quietly.

That earned him another heart-felt kiss. “You gotta keep it up though,” I said.

He giggled.

“You’ve got a dirty mind, young man! You know exactly what I mean.”

“Yep!” he giggled again and thrust his dick into my hand.

I gave up and returned to our smooching.

“I gotta go soon,” he said as the programme changed on the TV. “I wish I could stay here longer.”

“Me too,” I agreed. “Can you get back tonight?”

“Don’t think so, mum and dad are going out and I gotta stay home.”

“Pity,” I said “I would’ve liked it.”

“It’s a bummer. I hate dodging about like this: it’s a real pain in the ….!”

“Butt?” I filled in for him.

“Sort of,” he laughed.

He looked pensive for a moment or two, then said, “Can you give me a lift to school in the morning?”

“Yes, of course. Why?”

“My bikes got a puncture. Or at least it will have in the morning.”

“You devious little ……”

“Charmer?” he sniggered, pleased to get his own back.

“Piss Off!” I mouthed at him. “And get your parents to ring me if you want a lift.”

“Oh yeah! That’d be a good idea. Got to get the timing right though or they’ll make me walk!”

It wasn’t until ages after he’d gone that I realised all we’d done today was talked and petted each other and that I’d thoroughly enjoyed myself as had Miles. Even when the subject of the bedroom had come up, neither of us really wanted to stop what we were doing. Interesting.


The ‘phone went at just after eight o’clock the following morning. On the line was a very fraught

Mrs Jackson. Breathlessly she informed me of the problem and explained that she wouldn’t normally have bothered me with their difficulty but Miles had insisted that I wouldn’t mind, and seeing as it was now so late …

I calmed her down and told her that I didn’t mind in the slightest, it would be a pleasure in fact. I could hear the relief in her voice as she heard this, and after thanking me profusely, put the ‘phone down. Thirty seconds later, it rang again.

“Sorry,” she laughed, “But we don’t know where you live. Miles says it isn’t far away because he’s seen your car, but we don’t know your address.”

Shaking my head in amusement, I told her. ‘One day’, I said to myself, ‘Miles will either be a very rich man, or locked up.’

Ten minutes later, their silver Volvo pulled up outside.

“Thanks again,” Mrs Jackson said. “You wouldn’t believe the bother he’s caused this morning! You must come round for dinner one evening.”

With a quick wave she drove off, leaving Miles and I standing on the pavement watching her.

“Come on, dopey,” I said to Miles, pushing him towards my car. “Your plan worked OK then?”

“Sort of,” he grimaced. “Got a bollocking for being stupid and not checking my bike yesterday. Oh, and another one for leaving it so late to tell her. But apart from that, it was OK.”

“She wasn’t curious about why you knew my ‘phone number?”

“She never asked. Too stressed,” he grinned. “Had to ring back for your address though, didn’t she?”

“And she won’t ask you later?”

“Naah. Once she’s solved a problem, she forgets it and looks for the next one. You got a dinner invite though.”

“I don’t think she was serious, just being polite. She’ll forget about it.”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Miles answered happily. “If you make friends with mum and dad, then, well …”

Why did I have the feeling that we were being manipulated again? I shook my head disbelievingly at the loveable rogue sat by my side.

“You’d better drop me here,” Miles said as we turned onto the estate where the school was.

“Why?” I asked. “All I’m doing is giving you a lift to school.”

“Yeah. And if the others saw me coming to school with a teacher I’d never live it down. You’d ruin my street cred,” he giggled. “We’re suppose to hate teachers, remember?”

“See you at home time, then,” I said as he opened the door.

Anxious to maintain his ‘street cred’ as he called it, he hung about after school until most of the kids had gone then came to find me.

I only had a bit of clearing up to do and then we were on our way, Miles rabbiting on all the way home about his day. I listened with half an ear as I unwound.

Once at his house, he insisted that I went in to meet his mum, reminding me that he’d want a lift again tomorrow as he hadn’t fixed his bike yet. Over a cup of coffee, I suggested that if it would make things easier, I could take him to school for the rest of the week, or at least until he got his bike sorted out. She didn’t take a lot of persuading, I must admit. I gather she had quite a stressful sort of job and could well do without additional ones at home.

The arrangement continued for the rest of the week, and well into the following one. Whether Miles had mended his bike or not, I never asked: both he and his parents seemed agreeable to my taking him to and from school and we carried on by default as much as anything else. I also got my dinner invite, thanks to Miles badgering I assume.

“Nothing special,” Mrs Jackson told me, “just come as you are.”

That isn’t what Miles thought though. I was amused to see that he’d taken the trouble to have a shower, change into a more formal shirt and tie and even combed his hair. His parents noticed this of course, but did nothing except give me a knowing glance and a comment that I seemed to be having a good effect on him!

After the meal was finished we sat and talked for a while. I learned that Mrs Jackson worked for the local authority in charge of the homeless housing section, hence the stressful job I assumed. His father was the ‘HR’ manager for a local import/export company, and a very nice person: it was easy to see where Miles got his intelligence from. Before I knew it, I had told him all about my background (most of it anyway!), my university life and plans for the future.

To my surprise, I also told him that I couldn’t see myself still teaching for more than another few years. I liked the job, I explained, but felt I could do better, but didn’t know what.

“I expect I’ll still be there in twenty years time though,” I laughed, “And saying the same thing!” Like many of my colleagues, I thought to myself.

“If you’re going to change, do it now,” he said, handing me a second glass of beer. “You’re young enough and bright enough to do what you want. Don’t leave it too late.”

Thankfully the conversation changed to a less personal one and I relaxed.

Yet again my life changed over the next couple of months, without my hardly noticing it. Miles and I went to and from school together almost every day and he began to stay at my house after school to do his homework. Week-ends were free and easy, him spending at least one of the days entirely with me. I also had dinner a couple of times a month with the Jackson’s ‘en famille’.

“It’s like having two families,” Miles said to me one day as we relaxed in bed. “I’m sorta shared between you.”

“You objecting?” I asked, tweaking his balls.

“Oh, no,” he grimaced, moving my hand on to his dick. “When I get pissed off with one, I go to the other!”

“So I’m second-best am I? Just a back-up?”

“Piss Off! You know me better than my mum and dad,” he said, then added more seriously, “In ways that matter anyway.”

That was it. Together we showed each other how well we knew each other.

During term-time we only had sex together at week-ends, partly because we’d agreed that school-days were off limits anyway, and partly because we’d found that we were just as happy messing about in other ways. Friday nights, when he could stay out until 10 pm, we usually ended up in my bed watching a film and more often than not having very satisfactory BJ’s afterwards.

Sunday were our special day. Miles wandered around the flat wearing as little as I would allow him to get away with, knowing that it would have the inevitable effect on us both. Sex was very much on the agenda then and as time progressed we managed to make it last and last.

Summer came round before we knew it, and with it Miles’ 15th birthday.

“You’re coming of course,” Miles stated as he handed me the invite.

“You don’t want me there,” I said. “I’d only get in the way of you enjoying yourself with your mates. In any case, what would they think if they saw me there? I’m the enemy, remember?”

“You gotta come. I’m not having one if you’re not going to be there.”

He was being as serious as he could be, and I knew from experience that he meant what he said. If I turned him down flat, there would be an argument and tears. I still had deep reservations though, and tried to think of a way to let him down gently.

“Mike knows you’re coming, and he’s OK with it.”he said, lips pouting.

“What? You’ve told Mike?” I said, shocked.

“No, not really. I just told him you were friends with my mum and dad and you’d been invited by them.”

There was a feint glimmer of a smile before he added, “And that’s true. Nearly.”

“How do you mean?”

“Dad asked me if I was going to invite you and so I said that I didn’t know. He said I aught to seeing as you take me to school everyday, and I think he likes you anyway. It’ll be someone for him to talk to. So it was his idea really.”

“OK,” I sighed. “I’ll be there.”

“Great!” He beamed.

“What would you like for your birthday?” I asked. “Nothing too big, I’m not as well off as your mum and dad.”

“Guess,” he said, unzipping his trousers.

“Let’s do a 69,” he asked as we climbed into bed. “We haven’t done that for ages.”

As a rule we avoided 69s because, well, we liked looking at each other as as we sucked, could take a break when we wanted and were fun. Apart from anything else, the view you had when in a 69 wasn’t inviting to say the least! Inviting? Interesting choice of word I thought. Neither Miles nor I had never talked about doing ‘the ultimate’ except in an abstract sort of way when we were talking about the fiction we wrote. I’d done it a couple of times in the past, but hadn’t been impressed and so it held little interest for me. As I massaged Miles’ most attractive butt simultaneously with sinking his dick as far down my throat as I could, the thought flashed through my mind – not surprising as the globes of his butt were the only thing I could feel with my hands.

Whatever avenues my mind would have wandered down after this thought were quickly closed off as it was swamped by the supremely erotic sensations of Miles tongue and mouth playing with my cock. His moans and groans were accompanied by a gentle too-ing and fro-ing of his body as he tried to derive the maximum amount of pleasure from the exercise – and a sure sign that he was totally oblivious to the world around him.

Slowly we built ourselves up to a climax, taking as long as possible, I for one savouring yet again Mile’s perfectly-sized cock filling my mouth. As I worked my tongue inside his foreskin, I felt a giggle vibrate down my dick and a gentle nip from his teeth. Feeling mischievous, I flicked my tongue against his corona which made him wriggle happily all the more.

Miles, it seemed, was on a short fuse as without warning his dick gave that tiny jerk and stiffening which meant only one thing. Pausing in his sucking whilst he spasmed delightfully into my throat, he carried on as if nothing had happened. Unfortunately, the presence of his still hard dick (how the hell does he managed that?) and the taste of his juices did all that was necessary for me and I returned the favour, Miles swallowing everything I gave.

“I’m knackered!” he sighed as he rested his head on my shoulder. “That was fantastic. Thanks!”

“Anytime,” I smiled and gave him a kiss.

“Do you know,” he mused quietly, “We’ve been doing stuff for 342 days now.”

“Pardon?” I said. “How the Hell do you know that?”

“I was reading on my computer last night and found the story I wrote for you and it had the date on it.”

“So, it was just after your 14th birthday, and now its your 15th

“Yep. And it’s been a brilliant year, thanks to you,” he grinned. “And the next one is gonna be even better!”

“I hope so, I really hope so,” I said quietly, covering his face with kisses.


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