Miles of Smiles
by Alexander


Chapter 7

The birthday party was approaching rapidly and I still hadn’t a clue what to buy him. I would’ve liked nothing better than to get him something intensely personal, something only he and I would appreciate, but obviously that was out of the question. But what else could I get him? If it was too expensive suspicions would be aroused; if it was too cheap, I would look like a cheapskate. Miles had been no help at all, every time I’d enquired, I’d got a lewd look and totally inappropriate comment. In the end I settled for the traditionally boring – a bottle of aftershave and some gift vouchers. At least he would appreciate the aftershave!

The party was good. There were about a dozen boys and girls there, most of whom I knew through school. After their initial embarrassment of having their teacher there, things settled down and a good time was had by all. Miles more or less ignored me after the first few minutes, although I did catch him looking at me a couple of times, when he winked at me wickedly. Michael was there too, with Sandra. I gazed idly at them, wondering if Sandra had eventually relented and did what Michael wanted. Miles hadn’t mentioned him in ages, so I guess she had, lucky boy.

I was wandering around searching for a place where the noise was less and I could leave the kids to it when felt a touch on my arm. Turning round, I saw Miles’ dad with a brace of scotches in his hand.

“Patio,” he grinned. “It’s quieter.”

Gratefully we escaped the din and sat down.

“Cheers!” I said, raising my glass.

“Cheers!” he replied and sat back.

“So, how’s things?” he asked conversationally.

“Oh, not bad,” I said. “Not much changes in my job really, only the faces in front of me.”

“I couldn’t do your job for worlds,” he laughed. “We have enough trouble managing one teenager, how you cope with 30, I’ve no idea!”

“It’s not bad, you get used to it. Getting them on your side is half the battle.”

“Rather you than me. You’ve made quite a hit with Miles anyway.”

He raised his glass and looked at me over the rim. I sensed danger and wondered if there was more in the question than appeared.

“He’s OK,” I said as neutrally as I could. “He’s got better this year, which has made a big difference.”

“That’s down to you, and believe me, my wife and I are very grateful for it. I think he could have gone either way once upon a time.”

I relaxed just a little: at least we were on safe ground now and chatted on about school and so on for a few minutes before John put his glass down, poured another scotch into it and topped mine up.

“Thought any more about changing jobs, Alec?” he asked.

“Not seriously, but I’ve always got my eyes open,” I said. “If I see something suitable, I might go for it.”

“Thought so. If you’re interested, I’ve got a friend who’s looking for someone like you. Runs a small publishing company, publishes in-house magazines for big companies and that sort of thing. He’s trying to find someone to write stuff for them, edit and proof read. That sort of thing. Would you be interested?”

“Certainly,” I answered. “Sounds right up my street.”

“Good,” John said, smiling. “I’ll arrange a meeting if you like so you can talk about it.”

“Thanks!”I said sincerely, “I’d like that.”

To be honest, I hadn’t given much thought to job-hunting recently but the idea of changing appealed to me greatly – I’d had enough of teaching I realised.

To cut a long story short, I met the man in question – Jack Simmons by name – and was offered the job. Much to my surprise, the salary was nearly half as much again as the one I was currently getting and for work which was a lot less stressful. It also made me realise just how much teachers were under-valued and underpaid. The timing was perfect too. My teaching job paid until the end of August, prior to which I would have the entire summer holiday to enjoy before starting my new job.

To celebrate, I took the Jackson family out to dinner. By now, Miles and I were much more relaxed in the presence of his parents, our ‘other life’ totally forgotten about – or more correctly ignored.

Miles was on his best behaviour and was even allowed a few glasses of wine, after all he was now a healthy 15-year-old bordering on the edge of manhood, as I knew all too well!

“I suppose you’ll be moving house now you’ve got a new job?” Sheila said out of the blue.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Miles freeze, a fork half-way to his mouth. He stared at me, a look of panic on his face.

“Yes,” I agreed. “But not too far away, probably nearer to town, where the offices are,” I replied, giving Miles a comforting nod and wink.

“I might be able to help you there,” she smiled. “You know what my job is, of course.”

“Yes, I do, and thank you, but you’ve already done enough for me. I can’t ask you to do any more.”

“Nonsense!” she laughed. “It’s my job, and if I can’t help friends, who can I help?”

That last sentence, above all else put my mind completely at ease – I was now ‘a friend’, and feeling a great deal happier than I had a right to, raised my glass to them, reserving a special little toast for Miles who was now breathing again.

Through her contacts, Sheila found me a beautiful two-bedroom flat within a mile of where I was to work, and what’s more had superb views over the river through an enormous floor-to-ceiling picture window.

Naturally, I had to show the Jackson family all round it and they were suitably impressed. Miles particularly as he noticed the second bedroom with raised eyebrows and a smile I knew meant trouble.

“This’ll make a good office to work from,” I said deliberately to Alec and Sheila. “I’ll be working from home a lot.” Then before Miles could say anything inappropriate, added, “There’s enough room for a single bed as well, just in case.”

Miles’ father gave me a knowing ‘man’s’ look and said nothing.

“When you moving?” Miles said, taking in the view.

“Middle of the summer I expect. There’s a lot to do packing up my old flat.”

“I can help you do that,” Miles said excitedly. “Then you can move quicker.”

I looked helplessly at his parents who simply shrugged their shoulders and smiled in resignation. So that was arranged then.

Looking between the three of them, I suddenly felt very emotional. They had welcomed me into their family with open arms, had fed me, watered me, and even found me a new job and a home to live in. And in return? I was having an illicit relationship with their son.

I choked up, unable to say a word. Miles, acutely embarrassed, found something to interest him in the bathroom.

I felt Sheila put a hand on my arm. “You alright?” she asked quietly.

All I could do was nod.

“Good. You’re one of the best friends we have. Don’t let it get to you, it’s the least we could do.”

Turning to her husband she said, “Come on John, I feel like a drink and some retail therapy!”

With a last pat on my arm, she shouted out to Miles that they’d see him later. Cautiously Miles put his head round the bathroom door and checked to make sure they gone. Without saying a word he came across to me and put his arms round my waist to give me a hug.

“You OK?” he said into my chest.

“Yeah, I think so” I sighed, taking a deep breath.

We clung on to each other for a moment or two, feeding off each other’s strength.

“Come on, let’s go home. There’s nothing we can do here.” Miles said.

The fresh air did me good, and I felt a lot better as we headed away from the city centre.

“Your place or mine?” I asked.

I got a ‘what are you? Stupid?’ look from him which I assumed meant we were going to mine.


“Tea or coffee?” he asked as we went in the front door. “Or something stronger?”

“Coffee, thanks,” I said, looking round what used to be my home which now resembled the aftermath of a violent Bring & Buy sale.

Miles said nothing as he put the steaming cups down on top of a box of books. I felt his gaze though and turned to face him. He looked worried for me, a hundred unspoken questions remaining unasked.

“We’ve got to do something you know,” I whispered as I pulled him across my chest and stroked his hair.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But not yet. Things are going OK at last and I don’t want to ruin everything.”

“I don’t feel right about it. They’ve done so much for me and all I’ve done is betray them by ….”

Miles stiffened up and clenched his fists, his face contorted with anger and suffused with blood.

I tensed, waiting for the onslaught, but it never came. Slowly he calmed down, unclenched his fists and said, very slowly: “You’re not alone here you know. I’m involved just as much as you are. More so in fact because I started it all off. You tried to stop me, but I wouldn’t let you. Didn’t want to. I’m fifteen years old and I think the sort of person I am has pretty well been decided by now, don’t you? So go ahead, have a big bust-up with my parents and what will it achieve? You wouldn’t feel any better, I’d be back to square one – worse than that, labelled as a … a … well, you know. And they’d never trust me again. Would it make any of us happier?”

He was on the verge of tears, the emotions running through his body making him tremble. Reflexively I hugged him, held the back of his head and pressed it onto my shoulder. Warm tears ran down my neck. Lifting his face to mine, I kissed him on the lips, softly at first, but rapidly turning into a hard, passionate embrace – hard enough to stop us both breathing.

“OK,” he tried to smile as he wiped his face dry. “That’s one problem out of the way. Now what?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Best let them find out for themselves,” he said softly. “Sooner or later they’ll put two and two together and by then it’ll be too late I hope. I haven’t got the balls to tell ’em and I don’t think you have.”

We let the subject drop, neither of us having anything else to say. Miles curled up with his head in my lap and just stared at me, his eyes saying everything that was needed – and a lot more besides.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he yawned some time later. “We’ll finish the packing.”

“Want a lift home?” I said, reaching for my car keys.

“No, thanks. I need to walk.”

I nodded at him. “Better have a good wash first though,” I told him, wiping away the vestiges of his tears.

“Bastard!” he grinned. “I haven’t cried for bloody months and months. I hate you!”

Giving him a last kiss, I whispered, “I hate you too.”

“Bollocks!” he said, slapping me on the chest as he headed for the bathroom.


The following morning things were back to normal between us, or at least as normal as they ever were.

“How you getting it moved?” Miles asked as he finished boxing the kitchen stuff and labelled the carton.

“Movers coming at about two o’clock,” I told him. “I couldn’t be bothered to hire a van and do it myself. Between ourselves,” I added hastily. “They’ve got a key so I think I’ll make myself scarce until they’ve finished. About five they reckon.”

“So, what we gonna do instead for three hours?”

“No chance!” I laughed, “Unless we go to your place.”

“Yeah, right. And tell mum what we were doing in my bedroom for three hours?”

“OK then, we’ll go shopping. I need some new bookcases, a desk and possibly a bed.”

“Whaddya mean ‘possibly’ a bed? You’ve got one.” Then it dawned on him, “Oh. That. Good idea, Batman!”

We were just finishing the packing when the removal men turned up. Thankfully, we left them to it, grateful to have a wash and brush-up and get rid of the dust.

Miles rang home, told his mum what our plans were for the rest of the day and said that he’d be home ‘as and when’.

It didn’t take too long to find suitable office furniture for me: more expensive than I budgeted for, but what the Hell. We then headed for the bedroom section and had a good look around. We were weighing up the final choices when Miles got a fit of the giggles.

“What’s tickled you?” I asked.

“If anyone at school ever finds out you and me were buying a bed together, we’re dead!” he giggled.

“And if your parents knew I only had the one, then we’d be even deader,” I laughed back at him.

By the time we got back, the movers had left, leaving the furniture in more or less the right places and the boxes in the designated rooms. Was I ever grateful I’d hired them!

“Want to start on the kitchen whilst I do the living room?” I asked Miles.

“OK,” he said cheerfully and shot off to make a start.

Not long after there was a ring at the front door and I opened it to find the delivery men from the furniture store.

“Didn’t expect you until tomorrow,” I said, surprised.

“Had some spare time,” one of them said. “Sign here, please.”

“What’s that?” Miles said as they dropped the boxes on the living room floor.

“Furniture,” I explained. “Stuff we bought today.”

Miles looked confused and examined one of the boxes.

“You gotta put it together yourself?” he asked, amazed.

He’d never seen flat-pack furniture before of course, his parents didn’t need to go in for that sort of thing.

“Bloody Hell!” he spluttered. “It’ll take for ever. How the fu …. How do you know what goes where?”

“Come on, I’ll show you. This’s how the best people live, building their own furniture.”

I quickly decided that the bed would be first, mainly because it would be the easiest and secondly on the off-chance that his parents might turn up and the sight of a new bed would hopefully put their minds at rest.

An hour later, and after a couple of false starts, the job was done and we surveyed our handiwork.

“Not bad, not bad at all,” Miles said, bouncing on the mattress. “What’s next, boss?”

The bookcases were next, again quite simple but surprisingly awkward to handle. Things were beginning to look better already: apart from the soft furnishings the room was almost habitable.

Glancing at my watch, I saw with horror that it was almost nine ‘clock.

“Christ!” I said. “I’d better get you home.”

“Home?” Miles said in surprise. “Can’t I stay over?”

“What about your mum and dad? Hadn’t you better ask them?”

He picked up his mobile and rang them. To my surprise, but not his apparently, they readily agreed once we’d established that he would get fed and that he would be home mid-morning for a change of clothes and whatever.

“Told you,” he said smugly. “What we gonna eat?”

We settled on burgers from round the corner which we ate sat round the kitchen table, the food helped along with a couple of tins of lager which I found.

It was pushing eleven o’clock when Miles finished stowing the books away. “I’m knackered,” he said, stretching into a yawn. “I’m for bed.”

“OK,” I said. “You know where it is. See you in the morning.”

There was a stunned silence until he realised I was joking. “OK,” I sighed melodramatically. “You’d better make it up though, just in case.”

I made ‘ours’ up at the same time and had only got half-way through when Miles bounced back, “Done it!” he grinned.

I didn’t dare think what sort of mess he’d made of it, but I made a note to check it out in the morning. In something of a frenzy, he helped me finish ours and stood looking at me expectantly.

“Wash and teeth,” I reminded him.

“Oh, yeah. Forgot.” he giggled.

Two minutes later, he was back. “Your turn.” he informed me.

He was still dressed and standing by the bed when I got back, looking sheepish and almost nervous.

“Well?” I said.

He whispered, “We’ve never spent the whole night together before. Feels different. Special.”

“You OK with it? You can always use the other room if you want.”

“Bollocks!” he said, suddenly coming to life. “You try and make me!”

He almost tore his clothes off in his hurry and stood up straight, his cock fully erect and pointing straight at me. Sliding into the bed, he watched impatiently as I stripped, holding the covers back for me.

“At last,” he sighed as we embraced. “At fucking last!”

We were totally spent and only chatted for a little while before sleep began to overtake us.

“Hold me,” he whispered plaintively. “Hold me tight.”

He half rolled on top of me, nestled our erections together and smiled blissfully as he closed his eyes.

“Love you,” he whispered very quietly just before he fell asleep.

“Love you too,” I whispered back. His smile broadened and within seconds was fast asleep.

I lasted a little longer, the closeness of Miles and the events of the day taking a while to disappear into my memory. Happily, I stared lovingly at the naked form of Miles nestled into my side, ran my fingers through his hair and drifted off into a dream-filled sleep.


In the cold light of day, what Miles and I thought of as an almost finished flat, looked different. Furniture wasn’t in quite the right place, carpets didn’t quite fit, the pictures on the walls didn’t match the décor, and there were mountains of discarded packing to dispose of. Feeling tired before we even started, I made two cups of coffee and retreated back to bed where Miles was just about coming to.

“Time is it?” he yawned.

“ ‘Bout half past eight,” I told him, stifling an infective yawn.

“Bloody Hell!” he grinned. “It’s Sunday. Half past eight doesn’t exist!”

He put his cup down on the bedside cabinet and rolled over, wrapped his arms round me and sighed deeply.

“I think it was very good last night,” he said quietly.

“What do you mean? We didn’t do anything,” I said, puzzled.

“Exactly. It was nice just being together all night, just by ourselves.”

“True. And it was nice waking up to find you here,” I said softly.

I slid a hand under the bedclothes and snaked down towards his groin, where I found not to my surprise a very erect Miles junior.

Miles giggled and searched for my own dick. “You’re soft,” he muttered lightly.

“Give it a minute,” I laughed. “I’ve been up once, been to the bathroom and made our coffee remember!”

Slowly I started to play with Miles’ erection, rubbing my thumb over his hyper-sensitive crown and gently masturbating him. I felt him tense up, shudder with happiness and then relax as he began to enjoy my attentions. My own dick had hardened up by now of course and he was delightfully giving me the same treatment. There was no need to rush things – and we didn’t intend to. We’d long since got over the need to jack off hurriedly, and very often, just like now, we were more than content to simply enjoy each other, taking time off once in a while to have a kiss and cuddle. There was no need for speech, that would have spoiled things somehow. Miles was perfectly content, as was I.

“It’s after ten o’clock,” Miles said eventually. “Think we aught to make a move?”

“Guess so,” I answered, stretching out lazily. “What you want to do?”

“Breakfast!” he grinned. “I’m starving!”

Dressing consisted of putting on a pair of jeans and little else. This was followed by a very make-shift breakfast of whatever we could find in the kitchen as one thing I’d forgotten to do was food shopping – that was a job for later today.

We spent a couple of hours straightening things up around the flat and moving all the rubbish outside and setting up my computer stuff in the ‘office’. By the time we finished, the place was starting to look like a home at last and we sat down, exhausted on the sofa.

“You’d better make a move home soon,” I said to Miles over a cup of tea.

“Why?” he queried. “There’s still lots to do here.”

I explained that I didn’t want to give his parents any reason to question why he had spent so long here, and that in any case they’d been told to expect him home around lunch-time.

“It won’t do any good pissing them off now,” I told him. “We’ve still got to be careful how much time we spend together. Don’t want them to get any ideas, do we?”

“No, suppose not,” Miles agreed. “When can I come round next? Tonight?”

“Best not,” I said reluctantly. “You can spend all day here tomorrow though if they agree. They’re at work and there’s no school is there?”

That cheered him up and we parted not long after – but not before we’d had another kiss and cuddle to keep us going.

The rest of the day I spent putting the finishing touches to the place and making sure that I knew where everything was, that sort of thing. By the time evening rolled round, things were arranged more or less to my satisfaction except possibly the most tedious job of all – fixing up my so-called ‘office’. Miles and I had half-done the job in that my computer was set up and connected: at least all the plugs seemed to be in the right holes and the myriad green lights seemed to indicate that things were alive and ready to start work. Tentatively I opened up a few files, played about with them and printed a few sheets. So far so good. Next came the biggest test of all – my essential internet connection. I crossed my fingers and prayed. If this didn’t work, I’d no idea where to start looking. Yet again the gods were with me and it fired up first time, thankfully the welcome screen appeared and all seemed well. Inordinately pleased with myself, I turned it all off, made myself a large scotch and soda and relaxed in front of the TV.


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