Date: Tue, 25 May 2010 15:37:31 -0700 (PDT)
From: John Venn <johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Story: Miles of Smiles

Disclaimer:

This story contains scenes of a sexual nature between a man and teenger. If
this is not to your taste, or is illegal where you live, or you find it
morally offensive, then read no further and leave now!!

The story is purely imaginary and bears no resemblance to any living person
or persons as far as I know, much as you or I might wish!

Other stories of mine may be found under 'Prolific Authors' at Nifty.

Comments are always welcome at johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk
*******************************************************


Miles of Smiles
by
Alexander


Chapter 1.

It was getting late. I'd spent far longer than intended proof-reading
another story that I'd written for the gay story website that I contributed
to, and I still had some marking to do before school tomorrow.

Being an English teacher, I enjoyed writing gay-themed stories as a hobby,
both for the pleasure they gave me and as an outlet for my natural
inclinations. There were any number of good-looking boys in the school,
some of whom I was sure would not be averse to having a little
'experimentation' shall we say - that much was evident from reading between
the lines in the fiction I sometimes got them to write or the unmistakable
traits of character some of them showed. But I valued my career, freedom
and reputation far too much to ever get involved and followed the school
policy guidelines to the letter in not letting myself be placed in any
situation that could be even slightly misinterpreted. In fact, I'd not been
in any relationship worthy of the name since I'd left university. OK, I'd
had a few 'one-night stands', none of them were serious but they'd kept my
hormones under some sort of control. Mostly I satisfied myself with the
writing, thinking wild, unmentionable thoughts about some of the boys, and
my right hand.

Checking my contribution one last time, I emailed it to the archive, turned
the machine off and picked up the pile of books that demanded my attention.

I needed the books the following day, mainly because I had the least
popular lesson on my timetable, a double period of English with the fourth
form – boys of about fourteen or so. Ninety minutes of English in one
hit is far too much as far as I am concerned, but the timetable was such
that it was impossible to do anything about it. I tried to alleviate the
tedium by giving the boys an exercise in free-writing for at least half the
lesson: it was something that they found less stressful than anything else
and a few even enjoyed it. I must admit that I had a bit of an ulterior
motive in getting the class to write short stories – I had picked up
some good ideas for my own work from several of them, especially when it
came to writing current teenage dialogue.

Thus it was that I asked the group to write a short story about a group of
boys stranded on a desert island – we'd read 'Lord of the Flies' not
long ago and it had captured their imagination. Mine too, as it happened:
the story I'd sent off last week was a short J.O. story on the same
theme. Not a great piece of literature, but good enough to satisfy the
needs of some people.

"OK," I said as the lesson drew to a close. "Who's not finished yet?"

A few hands went up. "Right then. Finish for homework. The rest put your
books on my desk on the way out."

It was mid-evening before I got round to marking the work. It was easy
enough – I wasn't too concerned about spelling or grammar this time –
just signs of a good imagination and logical presentation. Scrawling a
grade on the one I'd just read, I picked up the next offering and started
to read it.

I was two-thirds of the way through the story when I suddenly realised it
was familiar. Going back to the beginning, I re-read it more carefully. The
scene description, the boys names and even the reason for their being
marooned on the island were disturbingly recognisable. In something of a
minor panic, I fired up the computer and checked the story against another
– my latest contribution to the archive. Michael, Robert, Steven and all
the others were there. Even the 'crescent-shaped bay of silver sand,
fringed with sky-scraping palm trees ...' ! The only major difference was
that the boy's story didn't end up with a free-for-all sex orgy, but with
their being rescued. No spurting semen, just seamen.

Leaning back in my chair, I panicked for a few minutes, thinking that
somehow I'd left a copy of the story at school. But then logic kicked in
– I never printed my work out, there was no need. The only place outside
of my computer the story could've been read was on the
internet. Self-preservation then led me to check (not for the first time!)
that neither the pseudonym I wrote under, nor my email address could be
traced back to me directly. Breathing a sigh of relief, I thought it over.

The book belonged to Miles Jackson. It took a moment or two before I could
bring him to mind. Average ability, average looks, average build: average
all-rounder in fact. Nothing special apart from an ever-present trade-mark
grin.

I scrawled a 'See Me' at the bottom of his work. If nothing else, he'd got
me curious.

Chapter 2.

I looked at him as he stood in front of my desk, a slight frown on his
face.

"So," I said, passing the exercise book back to him. "A good story. Well
planned, well written and interesting. All your own work?"

"Yes, sir. I wrote it in your class," he replied. But the flush of crimson
spreading up from his neck told me a different story.

"Some of the language you use isn't like your normal stuff," I said probing
a little deeper. "Not that it's wrong – some of it is quite
good. Perhaps you remembered it from something you read somewhere?"

"Probably, sir. I read a lot of stuff." Then, to my amazement, looked
directly at me and added, "Mostly on the internet."

The little sod had cornered me, and he knew it. I felt the start of a hot
flush to match his, and before it became too visible, gave him a slight
smile and sent him on his way. He grinned, thanked me and returned to his
place.

I didn't know what to think. He was certainly aware that I'd written the
story he'd plagiarised – and he knew that I knew. I put aside the
question as to how he found out, that was not important just now. What was
important was what he intended to do about it. My guess was that he'd
already done what he wanted – to let me know what he'd done. I doubted
very much if he would go any further than that, after all he was under age
for the site, and in addition if he'd wanted to cause me real problems, he
would have circulated copies of the story. There were other possibilities
of course, but none of them struck me as being likely or feasible. Mentally
shrugging my shoulders, I decided that there was nothing I could do except
wait to see what would happen next, if anything.

The answer came when I logged on to check my emails. There, right at the
top, was one from a character called 'smilesy'. I opened it up and to start
with it thanked me for the latest story I'd published and said how much
he'd liked it. There was nothing unusual in that, but the next line put me
in no doubt as to who 'smilesy' was. 'P.S.', it said, 'I won't tell if you
don't!' And the message was signed 'sMILESy'. Smilesy was Miles' nickname.

Oddly enough I felt better for getting this message: at least he admitted
it was him and was also anxious to keep it secret. In reply, I sent just
one line: 'How did you know?' and signed it with my initials 'AS'.

He must've been on-line as I got an answer just five minutes later.

'Easy,' he said. 'I have read all the things you've written, and all the
names of boys you use are the names of boys who go to our school, and some
of the places you describe are around here. Then I looked at your login
– 'seedy1812'. Took me a bit to work it out, but then I remembered your
favourite author was Charles Dickens, born in 1812. Simple!'

'OK,' I sent back. 'I give up. Keep it to yourself?'

The reply was instant. 'Course. You got any more stories for me?'

'Not just yet,' I lied. 'Can we talk at school tomorrow? Morning break, my
classroom?'

'Only if I'm not gonna get in trouble.'

'No trouble. Promise. See you then?'

'OK,' was the simple reply.

I felt better; not 100%, but certainly more comfortable, knowing that at
least things were being kept just between ourselves for the time
being. What I could say to Miles though, I hadn't a clue.

* * * *

I still didn't know what I was going to say when he turned up and sat on
the desk in front of me. We looked at one another awkwardly, neither
knowing where or how to start.

"I like ..." Miles started. "How did ..." I said.

"OK, you first," I offered, relaxed enough to half smile at him.

"I was going to say how much I liked the stuff you write," he grinned.

"It's hardly written for people as young as you," I said. "You shouldn't be
reading it."

I knew it sounded pompous and supercilious, and it didn't come out anywhere
near as friendly as I meant it to be.

"Come on!" he said. "I bet half the people who read that sort of stuff are
my age or even younger!"

He was right of course, or at least a fair proportion of them would be
anyway.

"Do many of your mates read them, then?" I asked.

"Come on, Sir! Do you think they'd say so, even if they did? If anyone
found out that I liked reading gay stuff, they'd have my knackers off in no
time!"

The ice had been broken, and we chatted away quite comfortably right
through break time until the class bell brought things to a close to my
disappointment.

"OK, Miles," I said, getting up from my chair. "Thanks for the chat, you'd
better get to class now. I'll see you later."

"OK, Sir. Can we talk again tomorrow? I like talking to you."

"Yes, of course," I said before I even thought about it.

Over the next few weeks we met most days at some time or another and
enjoyed our conversations. The subject of my hobby or his reading habits
came up very rarely, the only thing Miles said once in a while was how much
he'd liked (or not liked!) my latest short story. Oh, and how he'd spotted
that I'd used some of his ideas in them! Interestingly, one of the side
benefits of our new friendship was the improvement in his writing, he was
obviously putting more thought and effort into his work. I had to caution
him once or twice for treading on very thin ice with some of his themes
– copying my style was one thing, but trying to write gay fiction in
school wasn't such a good idea!

"What am I gonna do then?" he asked. "I like writing stuff like you, it's
different and sorta fun to do."

I've always said that it doesn't matter what sort of things you write
about, as long as you enjoy it and get something out of it. But a 14-year
old boy writing queer stories? That gave me food for thought.

"OK," I said reluctantly. "Why not let me see some of your efforts and I'll
tell you what I think."

This brought an instant grin to Miles face and a heart-felt 'thanks!' I
felt rather less happy about it.

True to his word, when I checked my email, I found a couple of short pieces
from Miles. The ideas were good, the grammar was OK, but the stories needed
a lot of work to make them interesting and readable. Miles suffered from
the typical teenage problem of trying to get as much action and excitement
in as few words as possible. The result was a story such as we see all too
many of – a hundred lines of masturbatory fantasy which satisfies no one
except the author.

I explained the problem as delicately as I could the Miles the following
day.

"Take your time," I explained. "Don't be in a rush to reach the end. Build
things up." I went on in this vein for a while, being as positive as I
could. I went through his effort line-by-line, picking out the most glaring
mistakes and suggesting suitable alternatives. A little to my
consternation, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Miles had an
erection which he was idly fingering over his trousers. Thankfully he
couldn't see the one hidden by my desk.

We'd never talked about our own experiences – as far as I was concerned,
they were most definitely out of bounds, and in any case Miles, if he'd had
any experience at all, certainly wouldn't tell me about them, not that I'd
ask anyway. It might sound strange, but after the initial shock of learning
what sort of reading matter Miles preferred, I'd never even thought about
him in a sexual way – just as a pupil whose company I liked, along with
many other boys in the school. The vision of his fingers running up and
down a decent sized lump in his trousers soon changed that though.

The thought must've been playing on my mind as, for some stupid,
thoughtless reason, I ended up by saying, "And write from personal
experience, not from a distance."

Instantly Miles removed his hand from his swollen groin, blushed slightly
and grinned wryly at me.

"Sorry!" I stumbled out, " I didn't mean to ..."

Miles quickly overcame his embarrassment and said, "Well, I've done things
two times with other boys, once when ..."

I held a hand up to stop him, "I'd rather not know," I laughed. "Some
things are best kept secret!"

At least Miles had the grace to blush again and finished by saying, "Well,
it was sorta fun. Perhaps I'll write about them."

It should've been no surprise to me, but a couple of days later I received
a rather lengthy (for Miles) story about an escapade his 'hero' had had
whilst at school. I skimmed through the story quickly, and then went back
to re-read it more carefully.

From the descriptions he gave, the school was easily identifiable, as were
the boys.

Apparently Miles (Ian in his story) and Robert had been swapping dirty
jokes in the playground when it became obvious that they both had boners.

	"When's the last time you wanked off?" Ian asked Robert, his hand
deep in his trouser pocket, obviously fondling his pride and joy.

	"Last night. You?" Robert said, his eyes fixed on the undulating
hand.

	"This morning," sniggered Ian. Then after a minute whispered,
"Wanna do it again now?"

	"Yeah, if you do," Robert said quietly. "But where?"

	"Visitor's toilet, near the office. I don't think anyone ever goes
in there."

	The two boys crept cautiously to the toilet and hurried inside,
bolting the cubicle door tightly behind them. Excitedly they reached out
for one another's flies, slid them down as far as they would go and
extracted two hugely erect pricks. With only a glance at each other, hands
started to work up and down the naked flesh.

	"Drop your pants," Robert said, "I can't do it properly."

	Within seconds, both sets of trousers and underpants were
dropped. Ian stared at the beautiful sight in front of him: a seven-inch
hardened rod of steel, sprouting out from a nest of bright red hair, just
like that on his head.

	"You done this with anyone else?" Ian asked as he slowly stroked
away.

	"No," Robert gasped. "You?"

	"No. But it's good though, ain't it?"

	"Oh, yeah!" sighed Robert.

	It didn't take them very long before they unloaded their balls, the
cum shooting out like rifle bullets, their bodies shaking with the effort.

	With a quick smile at each other, Robert and Ian dressed themselves
and carefully left the toilet.

In some ways, the story was like the others of Miles I'd read, but this
time he'd succeeded in giving me a fearsome erection, partly because I knew
who he was writing about. 'Robert' was his best friend Michael – it had
to be as he was the only redhead in the class. It was also an immense
turn-on knowing that Miles not only knew what he was talking about, but had
had some experience as well.

I spent a few minutes re-writing the story, adding a bit here and there and
doing a little re-phrasing. Out of devilment, I also improved the
description of 'Robert', noting the fact that he had a two-inch scar on his
neck where he'd had an accident, just like Michael.

It was now much better, and against my better judgement, I slipped my own
clothes off, gave my leaking cock some freedom and read the story yet
again, this time jacking off to images of semi-naked Miles and Michael. It
took no more than half a dozen strokes for me to shoot my load, eyes
closed, watching Miles do the same thing.

"Oh fuck!" I thought as I began to clean the mess up. "Whatever the quality
of Miles writing, it certainly worked for me, which is all that matters I
suppose!"

The last thing I did before turning the machine off was to print out a copy
and slip it inside my jacket.

* * * *

I slid the paper across the desk towards Miles with a request that he read
it.

"Bloody Hell!" he said as he realised what it was. "You knew who I was
writing about!"

"It was fairly obvious, the red hair gave it away. You might just as well
have not changed the name!" I laughed. "And I think seven inches is a bit
of an exaggeration, too."

"Well, I had to guess that bit. We didn't have time to get much of a proper
look at each other. His is bigger than mine though," he added, looking at
me directly.

The look I recognised instantly. It was a sort of challenge in a way:
daring me to ask how large his endowment was. More than that though, mixed
in with it was a mute plea that I did just that. If I did as he wanted, it
would take our relationship up a notch or two and I had the distinct
impression that was what he wanted.

Hedging my bets, I simply said, "And?"

"'Bout four inches," he giggled, staring at his cloth-covered boner. "And a
bit!"

Quite pointedly he stared at the erection now tenting my trousers. I felt
that he desperately wanted to ask me the obvious question, but didn't quite
have the courage. I decided not to enlighten him.

"Don't worry," I said, "It will grow soon enough."

Looking as serious as I'd ever seen him, Miles then said quietly, "Do you
want to ..." But then, glowing bright red, changed his mind.

"Not just now!" I laughed, ruffling his hair but deliberately leaving the
door open for further similar conversations if that is what he wanted.

In an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, I'd tried to make a bit of a joke,
but in the effort forgot to filter my thoughts and said exactly what I was
thinking. And precisely the wrong thing. Shit!

"OK," Miles said. "See you later then." And as if to emphasise the point,
he pressed his hand into his groin.

I ruffled his hair again, this time letting my hand rest on his head for a
few moments. I knew that he was coming on to me, and oddly enough found it
not unwelcome, it pleased my vanity I suppose. Not that I would ever act on
it of course, but still the feeling it gave me was a nice one.

Thankfully, it wasn't long before the end of term and we were due a
three-week holiday. Hopefully it would give things a chance to cool down
between us – they were beginning to get out of hand as far as I was
concerned. But then again, did I want them to cool down?

"If I do some more writing, will you look at it for me?" Miles asked on the
last day of term. "I'd really like you to."

"Of course," I grinned. "Whenever you like."

"Great!" he grinned as he packed his bag. "I'll get it to you."

The last I saw of him he was sat on his bike at the school gates waiting
for me to leave. As I drove past, we gave each other a cheery wave and went
our different ways.

* * * * *

My thoughts went back to Miles as I had my tea, staring unseeing at the
television. Somehow I felt a bit depressed over the thought that it would
be three weeks before I saw him again. He'd managed to get under my skin
one way or another and the thought of not being able to talk to him for the
entire holiday didn't please me in the slightest.

'Stupid!' I thought to myself. 'He's only a pupil. Don't get so worked up
over him. You'll see him again after the holidays.'

And then, 'But you like him, and he likes you. You'll miss each
other. Correction. You'll miss him.'

'Yeah, but you gotta cool the sex thing down'

'Why? Nothing will happen anyway.'

'Won't it? You sure?'

My mind was going round in circles and getting nowhere. In the end I
decided to wait and see what happened next, if anything.

The 'next thing' happened a lot sooner than I expected. Waiting in my inbox
was a message: ' Story almost finished. I'll get it to you
tomorrow. sMILESy.

 I grinned to myself, feeling a great deal better than I did earlier. For
some unfathomable reason, just getting an email from him cheered me up and
I opened up a story I was in the middle of and began to write, my mild
euphoria spreading into the words I was putting down.

Chapter 3.

The next day, Saturday, was my flat-cleaning day. I hated the crowded town
centre on Saturdays and so chose to clean the flat, leaving any serious
shopping until Sunday. I was in the middle of washing the kitchen floor
wearing only a pair of sweat pants and grubby T-shirt at around mid-day
when I heard the front doorbell ring. Cursing under my breath, I dropped
what I was doing and went to answer it. To say I was shocked was putting it
mildly. Standing in front of me was an insanely grinning Miles.

"What the ..." I managed to stammer out.

"Hiya!" he said. "Got my story like I promised." He waved a computer memory
stick at me. "Can I come in?"

I nodded dumbly and stood aside, anxious to get him out of public view as
much as anything else.

"How the hell do you know where I live?" I asked angrily as I shepherded
him into my lounge.

"Dark blue Ford Escort, registration number ..." he giggled. "Took me an
hour riding round on my bike last night trying to find it. Do you know how
many dark blue Fords there are around here? Hundreds! But I found yours
eventually though."

I'd calmed down a bit by now and in a slightly better mood suggested that
coming visiting me at home wasn't perhaps the best idea he'd ever had.

"Why?" he asked innocently. "All I'm doing is dropping some important
school work off, if anyone asks. But they won't."

"Your parents?"

"Dad's at work. Mum's down town shopping. I left her a note telling her
I've gone for a bike ride and I'll be back in time for tea."

"Where's your bike now?" I asked, worriedly.

"Don't panic. It's hidden behind the bushes in your garden. Don't want
anyone pinching it, do I?"

Talk about intelligence and determination! This boy had it all and I
couldn't help but admire him. I was also very glad to see him; in fact if
I'd followed my baser instincts, I would have hugged him!

"You are a very naughty boy," I said lamely, sounding like a Victorian
school ma'am.

"That's what my mum always says," he sniggered. "Can I have a drink or
something? It's thirsty work riding all the way over here."

"Where do you live, then?" I asked as I headed for the kitchen.

"London Road," he yelled back.

"But that's only a couple of miles away."

"Yeah. Well. I pedalled like shit to get here," he grinned.

If I'd've been in my right mind, I would have told him to get back on his
bike and go back to where he'd come from, telling him in no uncertain terms
what I thought of his stupidity. Instead I handed over the tin of coke, sat
beside him and watched him swallow the drink.

"Feeling better now?" I asked as he drained it.

"Mmmm," he smiled and looked round the room. "I like it here. Where's your
computer?"

"This way. In the spare room, I suppose you want me to look at your
effort?"

His ready grin and look of injured innocence had done their trick and I
even half-smiled to myself as I showed him into my 'office'. My mind was
already wandering down paths which were best left unexplored.

"Look at ...? he said, his mind probably thinking about my unintentional
double entendre. "Oh, yeah, my story." He reddened slightly at being caught
out, but covered himself with a wide grin once again, a grin I was rapidly
getting to like.

We tried several times to find anything on the stick he'd brought, but
without success.

"Must've picked the wrong one up," he said disarmingly.

I've been teaching long enough to know when a boy is being economical with
the truth, and this was a beauty.

"So," I said, "What we going to do now then?"

There was that look again, one which went straight to my groin.

"Can I read some more of your stories?" he asked.

Nodding, I pulled up a spare chair and sat alongside him, searching for the
right directory. I knew I'd lost the battle, but not necessarily the war
– there was a tiny vestige in me which told me I could stop things going
any further than they already had any time I wanted.

"Here," I said, opening up a short over-the-top J.O. fantasy, which I guess
is what he wanted.

"Wow!" he sighed as he skimmed through it.

The bulge in his jeans grew noticeably.

Once read, he hurriedly opened another.

"Jesus!" he said, one hand now buried in his lap. "Where do you get all the
ideas from? You haven't done all this stuff have you?"

"No," I laughed. "Just read a lot and remember the best bits."

After about the fourth story, and several vain attempts to discretely
re-arrange his swollen dick, he stood up and unashamedly moved it to a more
comfortable position.

"Got a ruler?" he asked huskily, his fingers resting on what must be a full
erection.

Shit! Now what do I do?

"Top drawer. Desk." I managed to say, my eyes fixed at the mountain just
below his belt.

Miles held the ruler in one hand, unsnapped his jeans and slid the zip
down. Then he stopped. I moved my gaze from his crotch and looked up at
him.

Wordlessly he handed me the ruler and stepped in front of me, his jeans
splayed open revealing a triangle of pale blue underpants.

Taking the ruler from him, I pushed his jeans down as far as they would go
and stared at his briefs, his erection stretching the material just about
as far as it would go. Swallowing hard, I slipped my thumbs inside the
waistband and eased them over his cock and down to join his jeans.

Released from its prison, his dick sprang upright, its solid length
reaching the best part of the way to his navel. At the bottom of it was a
healthy looking fringe of brown hair: not a lot, but more than enough to
show he was well on the way to adulthood.

"Jesus!" I moaned, unable to move. Several things caused my heart to miss a
beat or two. Not only did the sight of Mile's erect cock bring me back to
reality with a bang, and with it the predicament I'd got myself into, but
also the eagerness with which he'd allowed me to gain access to it. There
was also the fact that it was beautiful and he was waiting for me to take
hold of it.

Miles took a small step forwards, rested his hands on my shoulders and
whispered, "Well?"

Nervously I grasped his red-hot dick with one hand and almost as an
after-thought nestled the ruler along the inside of it. Marking the end of
his dick with my thumb, I looked at the ruler and showed it to him.

"Four and a half!" he smiled. "It ain't been that big before. Ever!"

Taking the ruler from me, he stared directly into my eyes, his meaning
perfectly clear.

Giving up the unequal struggle, I resigned myself to whatever Fate had in
store for me, I was way beyond logical thought by now. Lifting my butt off
the chair, I slid my pants down, along with my boxers. I am not
overly-endowed by any means, but I am fairly hairy. In fact I've always
thought that my tackle was fairly ugly-looking to be honest, certainly when
compared with the magnificent specimen in front of me.

I watched Miles take a big swallow as he approached my now-leaking dick
with the ruler. Hesitantly he slid it behind my cock and pressed a finger
to mark the end, not letting his eyes wander for a second. I swear I almost
fainted as his cool hand surrounded my cock and squeezed it lightly against
the ruler.

Miles was in a trance, his gaze fixed downwards. Slowly I reached out and
grasped his own member gently, letting my fingers run up and down it very
slightly. I felt his whole body shudder as I ran a finger over his
cockhead.

"Gotta sit down," I heard him mutter as he sidled round, pushed me into the
chair and collapsed on my knees.

His arms found their way round my neck and his face came closer and closer
to mine. Tentatively he kissed me lightly on the cheek. I was too surprised
and shocked to do anything about it: and thinking that I didn't object,
pressed his closed lips against mine.

"Fuckin' Hell!" he sighed as he broke away.

"How big?" I whispered, my mind completely blown away by now.

"What?" he said dreamily. "Oh." he grinned. "That. Forgot to look!"

"Dickhead!" I laughed nervously.

"Yep." he agreed, smiling all over his face. He kissed me lightly once
again and whispered, "You got anywhere better we can go?"

As I led Miles towards the bedroom, I completely forgot that he was a
student, that I was his teacher, that there was at least a ten-year gap in
our ages, that ... well, a whole raft of things. The only thing I knew was
that we wanted each other, probably needed each other, and there was
nothing in the world to stop us from satisfying those needs and
wants. Right here and right now.

We hurriedly removed the rest of our clothes and clambered on top of the
bed, holding on to each other as we fell.

I ran my fingers through Miles' hair as we gazed at each other, grinning
like Cheshire cats.

"You OK?" I whispered, a tiny part of me wishing even now he would say no.

"Mmmm!" he smiled.

I tried one last time to stop things, knowing before I even spoke that it
was pointless.

"I'm not sure, ..." I managed to get out before a hand stopped my mouth.

"I am," he said quietly, looking straight into my eyes.

I gave up. What choice did I have?

Miles must've felt my body relax in submission to the inevitable as he
squeezed himself tighter against me, took his hand away from my mouth and
rested his head on my chest, staring down at my erection as he gently
fondled it. Automatically, my hips thrust upwards at the unaccustomed touch
and I sighed. Dimly I became aware that Miles had taken my hand and placed
it on his own so-far ignored cock.

I have absolutely no idea what happened for the next half-hour or so, and
believe me I have tried often enough to try and remember. All I know is
that we explored each other endlessly, hands wandering wherever they
wanted, bodies alternately squashed together, then parting so we could look
at each other, eyes sparkling. Two or three times we came dangerously close
to spilling our loads, but each time we would stop ourselves just in time,
anxious to prolong the fun for as long as possible.

"Do it," Miles said at last, his voice trembling. "Make me cum."

I tightened my grip and set to work, my fingers stroking his beautiful dick
as gently as I could.

"Oh fuck!...." he moaned after what couldn't have been more than half a
dozen strokes.

His whole body spasmed, his back arched and a solid stream of cum shot out
from his tortured cock, most of it landing in a straight line from his chin
down to his navel.

It took him a minute or so to gather his wits together and his breathing to
become more regular.

Biting his lower lip and eyes glistening, he turned to face me, wrapped his
arms round my neck and whispered, "That was the best ever! Thank you!"

I laughed at him and stroked his hair.

"What you laughing at?" he said, the trade-mark grin now back on his face.

"You. You actually thanked me!" I said.

"So?" he replied. "It was good."

There was silence for a moment or two before, for some reason I asked him
when the last time he came was. I wasn't in the slightest bit interested
really, but it was something to say.

"This morning. Just before I came over here. I tried not to, but I just
couldn't help it!" he giggled.  "When's the last time you came?"

"Last night," I said. "After reading one of your stories."

"They work then!" he laughed. "Reckon you can do it again, now?"

I nodded and turned on my back, giving him free access.

Ever since I became an adult, I don't suppose more than half a dozen other
hands than my own had been anywhere near my cock – and certainly none of
them were as erotic or as young as those that were busy exploring my pride
and joy just now. Soft, silken fingers were fully engaged in discovering
every last bit of me: small fingers were dancing around my nether regions
in a manner destined to bring me off in no time at all.

"Oh shit!" I almost shouted as I felt my balls tighten and my cock harden.

Guessing what was about to happen, Miles gave me three or four final
strokes and watched, fascinated, as I fired out my contribution to our
efforts. He wasn't even phased when the first couple of pellets hit him
square in the face!

Normally after I've cum, I feel a bit tired and dejected for some reason,
but today I wasn't allowed to. Wiping the cum off his face, Miles simply
asked if I had a cloth somewhere to clean up with. I reached down and
passed him my long-since discarded T-shirt and watched as he cleaned us up.

Once he'd finished, he wriggled around and lay on top of me, his legs
between mine and his arms resting on my chest.

"Thanks!" he whispered.

"S'OK," was all I could think of to say.

I wrapped my arms round him and gave him a cuddle. Giving an audible sigh
of contentment, he made himself comfortable and rested his head on my
shoulder.

"Are you OK?" he whispered after a while, not looking at me.

I knew exactly what he meant.

"Yes, I suppose so," I answered, running my fingers down his spine. "You?"

"Yeah. I think so." There was a pause before he went on, "I'm glad we did
what we did. I've wanted to do it for ages, but didn't know what to do. And
now, ... " There was another pause. "I feel better. A lot better. Like all
the pieces of a jigsaw have come together. You know ..."

I cuddled him and whispered, "I know. I know."

We lay in silence for ages, each consumed by his own thoughts. I knew that
what we'd just done was reprehensible, illegal, and a myriad other
things. But then, it was Miles' idea, his plan, his instigation. I wasn't
too happy with the situation, but rationalised it by thinking that now he'd
tried it, he wouldn't want to do it again. And I wouldn't let him, for both
our sakes.

Five minutes later, with the resilience that all teenagers seem to possess,
Miles was back to his old self.

"That was OK," he grinned, sitting up. "But I gotta go. Mum'll be home
soon."

Before long we were washed, dressed and respectable again, Miles carrying
on as if nothing had happened. It wasn't until he was at the front door and
about to leave that he dropped the bombshell.

"Thanks!" he laughed. "Can I come back tomorrow?"

"I don't ..."

Before I could finish, he'd gone. "See ya about eleven!" he yelled as he
cycled down the road.

Chapter 4.

There was no way I could settle down to write that evening, my mind just
wouldn't let go of Miles and the afternoon's events. I was pretty certain
that it would be kept secret between ourselves, and unless he had been
spotted entering or leaving my flat, I could always deny his having ever
been there. 'No', I thought, 'That wasn't the real issue. The problem was,
did I want to encourage him? Did I want him in my home again? Did I want us
to ...?

Obviously, the answers should have been 'no' in every case. But that was
the sensible, logical and correct answer. And I wasn't logical, sensible or
right in what I truly wanted. And neither was Miles.

It was he who'd started things off, plotted and schemed to get what he
wanted, and I was the target.  Ordinary, average, almost invisible Miles
had got just what he desired. There was no doubt that he was brighter than
I'd given him credit for, that he was a determined young man, and that he
was sexually very much more aware than any other boy I'd known: the story
archive had seen to that!

I half thought of sending him an email, telling him not to come tomorrow,
but then realised that I didn't know who had access to his computer. I
assumed that it was just him, but I couldn't be certain – and the risk,
no matter how slight, of it being read by either of his parents was too
great. The only thing I could do was to have a long, serious talk with him
if and when he arrived.

 * * * *

He was late. With some trepidation, I'd watched the minute hand of the
clock creep from 11 o'clock to almost twenty past. My mind was in turmoil
– a thousand 'what if ...' questions buzzing round my head, most of
which weren't very pleasant ones. I was shaken out of my reverie by the
insistent ringing of the front door bell. More than half convinced that it
was Miles' father, or even the Police, I cautiously opened the door.

"Hiya!" said Miles as he slipped past me. "I made it!"

"What happened?" I asked, relieved that it was just him, with no seriously
pissed-off adult in tow.

"Puncture on my bike," he grinned. "Couldn't be bothered to mend it. Walked
instead."

Deliberately, I sat in the big easy chair, leaving Miles the option of
using the other chair or the sofa. He chose not to: instead, he sat on the
floor in front of me, cross-legged.

"You OK?" he asked, his head cocked to one side questioningly. "You look a
bit pissed off. Aren't you glad to see me?"

"Of course I am," I replied. "I was just worried about why you were
late. But we have go to talk."

"Can I have a drink first? Got any Coke?"

Having got the drink, I returned to my chair, Miles not having moved in the
slightest from his position on the floor.

"I'm not sure that you should come here," I began. "If anyone should ever
find out, we would both be in serious trouble - me a lot more than you."

Miles must've been expecting this conversation, and had given it some
thought. For every objection I raised, for every reason I gave, he had an
answer. I wasn't winning.

We lapsed into silence, all arguments being countered.

"Whatever you say," I said at last, "I don't think we should do what we did
yesterday again."

Miles shrugged his shoulders in resignation, gave me a grin and replied,
"That means I can still come visit though!"

I was argued out: I simply hadn't the energy to go through it all again. I
nodded a reluctant yes.

"Good!" he said, his tone of voice letting me know that my agreement to his
visiting was a foregone conclusion.

He stood up and rather to my surprise, moved across and sat himself on my
lap, arms round my neck.

"Thanks!" he whispered, kissed me lightly on the cheek and made himself
comfortable.

"No sex!" he giggled. "Let's just sit here and talk for a bit."

I wrapped my arms round his waist, as much to keep my hands away from his
front as much as anything else. I knew precisely what would happen if a
hand, accidentally or otherwise, touched anywhere from his knees to his
chest.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" I said, feeling much more at ease now
the question of sex was out of the way.

"Dunno. It's just nice sitting here like this. No one holds me very much
anymore."

"Well, you're fourteen, not four," I said. "Fourteen-year-olds don't need
hugging."

"Who says? I've not been hugged properly since I was about eight years old,
specially by my dad. Sometimes it'd be nice."

"Mmmmm. Perhaps you're right," I mused, giving him a gentle squeeze.

Of course he was right I thought. Even at my age, a hug from another
person, male or female, was more than welcome at times.

"'Course I am. That's how Mike and me started."

Miles was now perfectly at ease: relaxed and comfortable – and in a
talkative mood.

"How?" I asked quietly.

Miles went on to say that they'd met when they both started at the senior
school together when they were 11 years old. They soon became friends and
spent almost all their free time together, as close as any two boys could
get.

"It was last winter," Miles said dreamily, eyes closed as he remembered.

"I was staying at Mike's for the week-end and their central heating packed
up on the Saturday. It was bloody freezing!" Miles said, shivering at the
thought. "We all ended up wrapped in blankets watching the TV. Mike's mum
gave us a big blanket to share and we huddled up real close to get warm."

"Well, you can guess what happened next." Miles giggled. "Our hands sorta
wandered under the blanket and we began to tickle each other. His dad got a
bit ratty with us and told us to pack it up. Then I felt Mike's hand on my
leg, but I couldn't say anything 'cause we'd been told to shut up, so I did
the same thing to him. We'd seen each other without any clothes on lots of
times before, but we'd never touched each other – not like we were then
anyway. Well, we both got hardons and played with them outside our trousers
at first, but then we went inside, through the flies. It was funny," Miles
went on. "We were both feeling each other up, but had to keep dead quiet in
case anyone saw us. We even got our dicks out for a bit, but then put 'em
away 'cause we thought we might get caught."

I lifted Miles up off my lap a little to move my hardening dick from under
his butt. Miles, I noticed, took the opportunity to adjust his at the same
time.

"Then what?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"When it came to bed time, the bedrooms were fuckin' freezing!" he
laughed. "So his mum told us both to share Mike's bed so's we'd keep
warm. We thought that was brilliant! We'd probably have done it anyway, but
it was even better 'cause she told us to. She even brought us up some hot
drinks as well! Once we'd made sure she wasn't coming back, Mike asked me
if I wanted to have another feel, so we took our undies off and felt each
other all over for ages and ages. It was the first time we'd done anything
like that, but we both liked it a lot and went to sleep cuddled up
together. With our hands covering each other's balls!" he giggled.

"And then?" I said, our cocks as hard as they could be by now.

"You want the whole, dirty story?" Miles laughed, squeezing me lightly. "I
thought you said 'no sex'?"

I shrugged my shoulders, smiling at him.

"Well, things sorta changed between us after that. Whenever we got the
chance, we'd feel each other up and play around a bit, especially when we
were by ourselves. I wanted to wank him off, but I didn't know if he knew
about that sort of thing yet. I'd found out about it from the 'net and had
started to do it ages before we messed about, but I couldn't cum every time
I did it and I wanted to know if Mike was the same. He was in my bed at
home one sleepover and we'd been messing about for hours and I asked him if
I could jack him off properly. It turned out that he'd been doing it for
just as long as I had, but didn't know that I knew about it! Well, anyway,
we had a fantastic time that night; we must've orgasmed about six times
each!"

"And you still do it?" I enquired.

"Yeah, but not as much though," Miles replied. "I think I screwed it up a
bit."

"How?" I asked, aware that one of Miles' hands was now resting in my
groin. I chose not to move it.

Quietly, and with a sad tone in his voice, Miles carried on. "I was feeling
really randy one time and asked if I could give him a blow job. I'd never
done one before and wanted to try it. I had to tell him what it was, but he
wasn't very sure about it. Anyway, I more or less made him let me try. I
got as far as having his dick in my mouth when he pushed me off, saying it
wasn't very nice. We ain't done much since then except toss each other off
sometimes when he's in the mood."

"You miss it then?" I asked. Stupid, dumb question I realised as soon as
the words were out of my mouth.

"What do you think?" he said quietly, sitting up and looking directly at
me. Hesitantly he put a hand on my cock, and the other on his own.

"Please?" He wasn't begging, it wasn't in his nature. It was a request.

The story I'd just heard from Miles had touched me more than I thought it
would. It was obvious that what he wanted now was a friend, a confidant and
someone he could trust with his deepest secret. And someone to satisfy a
desperate need. To refuse him now would be disastrous for his
self-confidence. All he was looking for was a bit of comfort and solace
– something we all need. Where was the harm in that? What we were going
to do (at his suggestion, I rationalised to myself) was no more and no less
than a thousand other people did every day. You may think that I was
clutching at straws – and you'd be right.

"You know the way," I whispered.

Once in my bedroom, he avoided looking at me directly; his back turned
towards me as he took his shirt, shoes and socks off. With a hand on the
belt of his trousers, he twisted round to look straight at me.

"You don't mind? You really don't mind?" he said quietly. "I can go back
home if you want."

The usually ebullient Miles was being deadly serious. Perhaps it was the
conversation we'd had earlier that had brought him down to Earth. Perhaps
he was having second thoughts and had changed his mind. Perhaps ... ?

I dropped the shirt I was holding and went over to him, putting at arm over
his shoulder.

"We haven't got to do anything if you don't want. It's up to you. Your
choice."

There was the slightest trace of a humourless smile and I felt the tension
drain out of him. Moving across to the bed, he sat on the edge, pulling me
down beside him, ensuring that my arm stayed where it was.

"I know we shouldn't. I know I shouldn't," he said. "But I really want to
do it. I don't understand why. All I know is that I like it and can't stop
thinking about it. It's not even the sex bit, it's just that I feel so, so
good. I don't know how to say what I feel, but it doesn't feel wrong or
anything. How can it be when I feel so good?"

He was very close to tears I thought, and to save any embarrassment, I sat
him on my knees, letting his head rest on my shoulder. Giving him a gentle
squeeze, I stroke his hair and whispered, "I know how you feel. Just relax
and take your time. I'm more than happy just holding you if that's what you
want."

I was too. We sat in thoughtful silence for ages until I felt pins and
needles in my leg. Easing his head back, I kissed him on the forehead and
suggested that we lay back on the bed.

"Good," he said, fairly cheerfully. "My arms are starting to ache."

I don't think he'd been crying, but his eyes were red-rimmed and his face
was suffused pinkly. Ignoring this, we settled down again, embracing
lightly, our chests pressed together.

"That's better!" he grinned, now almost back to his old self. For better or
worse, he'd made his mind up.

He wriggled a leg between mine, pecked me once on each cheek and
sighed. Before long I became aware of a growing bulge in his trousers. In
sympathy mine began to expand too. Twice he reached down and adjusted
himself, the second time the back of his hand brushing against my own
erection.

"This's no good," he giggled. "I gotta take 'em off!"

Sitting up, he unfastened his trousers and slipped them off, together with
his pants. He looked at me expectantly. Keeping an eye fixed on his
beautifully erect cock, I removed mine and let them fall to the
floor. Instantly, he was back, arms round my neck, a wicked look in his eye
and a smile which could only mean trouble.

Slowly he tilted his head back and moved closer. I waited, my heart
pounding. Our lips met, so very softly at first that I only just felt his
touch. Then more firmly. His arms tightened and I was pulled into him, our
kiss now passionate. Suddenly he broke away and I opened my eyes to find
that he was gazing into them, his brow furrowed questioningly. Smiling
happily, I pulled him back down and returned the kiss just as firmly. In
return, I heard him moan contentedly.

With a gentle pressure, Miles pushed me onto my back and settled himself on
top, legs between mine and his elbows resting on my chest. All signs of his
earlier stress had vanished: what I was looking at now was a very happy,
contented boy which he demonstrated by wriggling around until our solidly
hard dicks were arranged comfortably. Dropping his head, he listened to my
heart-beat for a few moments, tapping the rhythm out with his fingers on my
chest.

"Do you like this?" he mused. "Us being together like this?"

"Yeah," I sighed. " No complaints as long as no one ever finds out."

"Good. I knew you would."

I was so far relaxed that it took me a minute or two to understand what
he'd said.

"Hmmm?" I said. "Knew what?"

"That you'd like doing this sorta stuff."

"How'd you know?" I asked, puzzled but still managing to stroke his hair
and run my fingers down his back.

"By accident really. I found your stories on the net. Didn't know they were
yours of course, but after I'd read 'em all I sorta worked it out, like I
said before. Then me and Mike got together and did stuff and I liked doing
it, but he's not into it as much as I am and so I wanted to find someone
else. Someone older," he giggled, giving me a little kiss.

"So you planned it all, right from the start?" I interrupted.

I should've been angry or upset I suppose, but quite the reverse. I felt
pleased in an odd sort of way, if not actually flattered. Whatever
misgivings about our relationship I may have, or had, were rapidly
disappearing. It's hard to justify them when you've got a naked, intensely
erect boy stretched out on top of you and moreover have just been told that
he actually set out to seduce you! My last reservations vaporised as he
gave me a kiss and thrust his hips into me.

"Not sorry are you?" he giggled, bucking up and down a couple of times,
emphasising his point.

"No, not now. But I never really stood a chance, did I?"

That trademark giggle again. "Suck it for me?" he asked.

Manoeuvring himself upwards, he straddled my chest and inched his
oh-so-innocent looking dick towards my lips. Placing my hands on his waist,
I stared at the four (and a half!) inch glistening rod in front of me, my
tongue already licking my lips in anticipation. His obvious youthfulness,
emphasised by the adolescent smattering of curly hairs and super-smooth
skin instantly became the centre of my universe.

Delicately kissing the fold of skin covering the tip of his offering, I
parted my lips and eased myself forwards. Miles, unable to wait, completed
the job and before I knew it, my nose was buried in his groin, his hot dick
filling my mouth.

I felt Miles' finger-nails bite into my shoulders and a shudder passed
through his body as I closed my mouth and gave him the gentlest of sucks.

"Oh fuck!" I heard him sigh ecstatically. I barely felt his fingers dig
into me even harder.

Miles hadn't a clue which planet he was on. Raising my eyes, I saw his face
contorted into a mask of sheer bliss, eyes screwed closed and a beatific
smile spread from ear to ear.

He didn't move an inch – I don't suppose he could, even if he wanted
to. I let his cock rest on my tongue for a moment or two whilst I
accustomed myself to feelings I hadn't had in years – and even then they
weren't anywhere near as intense as the ones I was having now. Dimly I was
aware of my own dick throbbing somewhere behind Miles, uncomfortably close
to shooting its load in response to the sensory overload.

In an effort to divert its attention and delay the inevitable, I put my
hands on Miles' hips and persuaded him to move to and fro, all the time
gripping his cock firmly between my lips and sucking more and more deeply.

"Oh shit!" he stammered out as he began to thrust himself in and out,
utilising the full length of his manhood.

There was no way was he under any sort of self-control by now, his natural
and innate instincts having taken over. More and more urgently he bucked
back and forth, each thrust accompanied by a feral moan of sheer lust.

It was all too much. After just half a dozen strokes, he forced himself
down my throat as far as he was able, and fired out everything he had in
uncounted spurts of euphoric joy. Even when he'd given everything he
possibly could, he still kept thrusting until, exhausted, he fell off me
and collapsed on the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly with the
effort of breathing.

I leaned across and pushed his hair from his sweat-beaded forehead to
reveal two eyes, glazed and unseeing. He was completely out of it, and
somewhat awkwardly I managed to cover us both with the bedcover, cuddled up
close and just held him.

"That was a bit intense!" he said quietly once he'd come to. "Ain't never
been like that before."

There was a nervous tremor in his voice and he bit his bottom lip
anxiously, looking at me for some reaction.

"That good was it?" I grinned, kissing the end of his nose.

Smiling back, he pecked me on the lips and whispered, "You bet!" Then we
kissed again, deeply and passionately. I hardly noticed the wet stickiness
in my own groin.

Once Miles had fully recovered from his ordeal, he became a little
hyperactive, patently very pleased with himself. He was talking away almost
wildly in his excitement, all the time running his hands over my body and
interspersing his ramblings with tender kisses and delirious grins. It took
a while, but eventually he calmed down, lay back, arms crossed on his chest
and stared at the ceiling.

"That was fun." he said, as much to himself as to me. Then added wickedly,
"Mike doesn't know what he's missing!"

Under the bed clothes, I felt his hand grasp mine and squeeze it lightly,
his fingers staying entwined with mine. I squeezed him back and whispered,
"You OK then?"

He nodded in reply and very quietly said that he was.

"Time you gotta be home?" I asked softly.

He glanced at the clock, lay back and said, "About an hour or so."

"Come on, then," I said. "Shower for you, young man. Can't have you going
home smelling like a ..." I was lost for words, but he knew what I meant.

Once I'd shown him where the shower was, I left him to it and went
downstairs to find something light to eat for us both. Before long we were
sat in my lounge, sharing a sandwich or two and a pot of coffee. Not much
was said between us, but once in a while our eyes would meet which resulted
in a mischievous giggle from Miles at the knowledge of our shared secret.

"Can you give me a lift?" he said as his home-time approached.

I looked at him, wide-eyed.

"Oh, yeah. Perhaps that wouldn't be such a good idea!" he laughed.

"Tell you what," I said as an idea struck me. "My house backs on to the
playing field and I think there's a gate in the fence which opens out to
it. If you cut across the field from your house, it'll be shorter and no
one will see you come here if you're careful and you come in through the
back door."

"Brilliant!" he giggled. "And you don't mind?"

It suddenly struck me that in making the offer, I'd changed our
relationship. Instead of trying to dissuade him from furthering our
relationship as I'd been so determined to do earlier, I was now agreeing to
it, if not actually encouraging him.

"Not really. I just don't want you to get caught visiting me," I added
lamely.

The fact that he would call again was beyond dispute, as we both knew. I
didn't, however, tell him about the spare key I'd hidden under a convenient
brick outside the back door. That would come later, probably.

It was with very mixed feelings that I watched him leave soon
afterwards. On the one hand, I was pleased that he'd come to see me to
begin with, pleased that we'd enjoyed ourselves in the way we had, and
delighted that he wanted to come back for more. On the other hand, I was
worried about what I was getting myself into, worried about how seriously
Miles was taking the situation, and worried what would happen if we were
ever found out.

After spending ages thinking about it and not coming to any real
conclusion, I turned the TV on and started watching some inane programme or
other. Just as soon as I relaxed, the truth hit me. Whatever the pros and
cons, I didn't want to stop seeing Miles: he filled a gap in my life which
only now was I beginning to realise was there. And it appeared that he also
had a gap which needed filling. Rightly or wrongly, I was not going to stop
seeing him – I didn't have the strength of character.

Chapter 5.

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.

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."

"How?"

"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.

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.

* * * * * Chapter 8

The next couple of weeks were among the best of my life. What with both
Miles and I being on holiday, we were able to spend a great deal of time
together, at least during the day anyway. Nights spent together were
strictly rationed, mainly in order to quell any suspicions his parents may
have. He also spent a lot of time with his friends, something else we
agreed would be a good idea – for all our benefits!

Interestingly, our sex life calmed down quite a lot. Although I saw Miles
almost every day, and he stayed over at the week-ends, it didn't lead to
mammoth sessions of lust and debauchery, much as I thought it might have
done not too long ago. Most of the time we just pottered around the flat
together, sometimes going shopping together or just messing around in the
town centre. The times we enjoyed the most were when we snuggled down on
the sofa, sans shirts and often trousers as well and just cuddled one
another. Erections became a rarity on these occasions – unless ones
hands wandered, deliberately or otherwise, inside pants. Kisses were taken
when wanted, and given freely.

The result was that when we did have sex, it was absolutely wonderful. It
was as if time stood still and the universe had collapsed around us –
nothing mattered except pure, unadulterated pleasure. For perhaps the first
time in my life I realised that the giving of enjoyable sex can be just as
good as receiving it – and Miles certainly enjoyed both giving and
receiving!

I hadn't fully appreciated how much we'd both changed until we were all
having dinner together at Miles' house one evening.

It was Miles who started the ball rolling by saying that his school had
offered some boys the chance of continuing their studies at the local
college rather than at the school. "We've only got a few months of this
school year left," he said. "And seeing as some of us will be going on to
college anyway, they thought it would be a good idea if we started now."

"Seems like a good idea," his mother said. "What do you think, Alec?"

I explained that this scheme had been thought about for some time. The
school was overcrowded as it was, and the college had plenty of spare
room. To take the pressure off, it had been agreed that pupils in their
last year of school could complete their education at the college if
everyone agreed. This had the advantage not only of spreading the load so
to speak, but also of offering the older pupils better facilities and a
less crowded timetable.

"What would you study?" his father asked.

"Usual things, but we sorta specialise a bit more," Miles went on. "We
don't do the stuff we don't need like craftwork, PE, Music and so on. We do
a lot more of the things we want to specialise in like English and
History."

"Maths and Science?" his dad enquired.

"Yeah, a bit. Enough to take the exams anyway. We have to take some other
subjects as well as the ones we want to specialise in."

After a long discussion, it was agreed that Miles should transfer to the
college if and when the opportunity came up. When he heard this, Miles was
delighted and his face showed it. Managing to catch my eye, he gave me an
enormous wink which told me that there was something which he hadn't
mentioned – something for just the two of us.

* * * * *

"So," I said a couple of days later when Miles and I were relaxing in my
flat. "Looking forward to starting college?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Start Monday. Got my list of textbooks and the
timetables been fixed already."

He reached into his school bag and handed me a pile of papers from the
college. By and large the books were the same as we used at school, which
was a help. The set novels were different though, more 'adult' than the
ones we chose, but that wasn't surprising. The surprise came when I saw the
timetable.

"What about Friday's?" I asked. "There's nothing marked."

"No," Miles giggled. "Free day. We're supposed to use it for revision and
research sorta thing."

"Mum and dad know?" I enquired, feeling that I knew the answer already.

"Not yet. They'll be OK with it though, specially when I tell 'em I'll be
here picking your brains!"

I was OK with this, and so was Miles obviously. I wasn't too sure of his
parents though. They'd already made one or two comments about the amount of
time Miles was spending with me, not that they were concerned about
anything untoward going on I don't think, just that he was with me more
than friends his own age.

The point was brought up later that week as Miles' dad and I were having a
quiet drink on their patio.

"You OK with Miles spending so much time at your place?" he asked. "Only if
you're not, tell me and I'll do something about it."

There didn't seem to be any sort of edge to the question and I accepted it
at face value, telling him that I didn't mind too much and that more often
than not we were both doing 'our own thing' most of the time.

"You know he's got a crush on you, don't you?" he said, smiling slightly.

I almost choked on the whisky as he said this, managing to put the glass
back on the table between coughs – coughs which fortunately covered the
fear I felt gripping my stomach.

"No," I said, still spluttering.

"Well he has," John said laughing at what he thought was news to
me. "Sheila found a picture of you hidden in his desk and according to him,
you are the best teacher in the world!"

I relaxed enormously as I took this in – realising that if it'd been
anything more serious, he would have said something by now.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I said, not knowing what else I could say.

"Don't panic about it," he went on. "I don't suppose it's the first time
you've come across it, but I assume most of them were girls."

Having gathered my wits by now, I agreed with him, adding that there had of
course been one or two boys along the way as well – although, like
Miles, they tended to keep quiet about it!

Alec slowly put his glass down on the table and looked at me thoughtfully.

"You know," he started, "Sheila and I have noticed that Miles doesn't seem
interested in girls very much. All his friends are boys and I know he
prefers their company. So far I'm putting it down to late development or
something, but I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't consider the obvious
alternative."

"Perhaps you're right," I replied carefully. "I hadn't thought about it a
great deal, we've never talked about that sort of thing."

"Don't expect you have. But I thought I'd better let you know how things
stand, just in case. You never know, he might ask you some decidedly
awkward questions one day!"

"Yeah, Thanks!" I said. " Thanks for the warning, I'll give it some
thought."

I took a sip of my scotch and, deciding that I would press the matter just
a bit further, said, "What if he, well ... prefers male company? I'd like
to know how you want me to handle it."

"We wouldn't be altogether happy about it of course, but there's nothing we
could do about it. Sheila and I have talked about it and agreed that
whatever choices he makes are his own and we would support him. Wouldn't
encourage it of course, not in the same way we would if it were girls he
was interested in, but we could live with it."

"Thanks," I said. "That's a help. Perhaps life at college will give him a
push in the right direction, and when the timing is right, I'll try and
talk to him."

John refilled our glasses, raised his to mine and the subject was
dropped. Not before we looked at each other though and I got the same look
Miles gave me when we'd come to an understanding.

I turned the conversation over in my mind as I drove home later that night,
still worried about how much John and Sheila knew, or guessed, about the
relationship between Miles and me. There was a distinct feeling that John
knew more than he were saying, but the fact that he hadn't put them into
words – or worse – said a lot. If he'd guessed that Miles and I were
'messing about', which I had to assume he had, then he was being discrete
about it, and whilst not happy with it, was prepared to accept it at least
for the time being. What I could, or should, do about it I hadn't a clue.

* * * * *

Miles and I were laying comfortably on my sofa a few days later when I felt
his hand snaking down to my groin. We'd not done anything since the awkward
conversation I'd had with his father and I knew Miles must be in the
mood. Unfortunately, I simply couldn't rise to the occasion, I couldn't get
the picture of his father out of my mind. Half-heartedly I grasped Miles'
erection and fondled it idly.

"What's the matter?" Miles said quietly, giving my still flaccid dick a
squeeze. "Something wrong?"

"No, but we've got to talk," I said, not letting go of his cock.

Miles furrowed his brow and looked at me, consternation showing on his
face. "What?" he said seriously.

I took a deep breath and started. "I think your parents know about us."

That got his attention and he sat up, staring at me in surprise. Not shock,
I noted. Surprise.

"How? What's happened?" he whispered.

I gave him a brief account of the conversation I'd had with his dad, or at
least as much of it as I thought he would understand. He listened
attentively, showing no emotion whatsoever, just rapt attention as I went
on.

"Oh," was the only comment he made when I'd finished.

To give him time to think, I went into the kitchen to make a drink for us,
and by the time I returned he was looking a bit better and a little more
relaxed.

"So?" I said. "What do you think?"

"Dunno," he said, staring into the cup of coffee in his hands. "I guess I'm
not surprised. Glad in a funny sort of way, at least I won't have to hide
things so much anymore. They know I'm not bothered about girls, they've
always known that I suppose, but I didn't think they'd guessed about the
other. Saves me telling them though."

Things went quiet for a few minutes as we both turned things over in our
minds. Suddenly, Miles rolled over, dropped his head into my lap, wriggled
his hands under my shirt and gave me a tight squeeze.

I stroked his hair softly as he thought things through. One thing was
certain, I now knew – Miles wasn't about to change his lifestyle.

"Is that all they've done?" he mumbled, "They haven't told anyone else, or
tried to stop you seeing me have they?"

"No," I confirmed. "At least not yet, and I don't think they will. What
they want is for you to be as sure as you can be that you know what you're
doing."

"Of course I'm bloody sure," he said forcefully. "You know that, and I
ain't fuckin' changing now am I? Why didn't you tell 'em?"

"Hey, hold on a bit," I replied quietly. "No point in getting angry - it
won't help. Try to see it from their point of view – they're worried
about you. And me for that matter; they can't be absolutely sure that I
didn't start the whole thing off."

"If they really thought that, you'd be locked up by now," Miles said. "And
I'd be grounded for life."

That made me feel better somehow, but it didn't get us anywhere.

"So, what do we do next?" he asked.

What I had to say next would be difficult – for both of us, but I felt
it had to be done.

"I think that you and I shouldn't see each other for a bit. Give us time to
sort ourselves out and work out what we both want. And you should talk to
your parents seriously: let them know how you feel."

I felt Miles' arms tighten round me as my suggestion hit home. "But I don't
wanna stop seeing you," he almost cried. "You know why."

"I don't want to stop seeing you either, but it'd be best in the long
run. It'll give you chance to sort things out with your mum and dad, and
give you and me time to think about what we mean to each other."

"But I can't ... I won't ..." he started to say, the tears beginning to
fall.

"A week. Seven days," I said. "Give it a week and then we'll talk. It's not
very long and your parents will appreciate it."

"I can't talk to dad about, well, you know, this sort of stuff. What do I
say?"

"Believe me, he'll understand. And he's sort of expecting it anyway. He'll
think more of you if you talk to him properly and tell him what you
feel. They're still your mum and dad remember, and they want the best for
you at the end of the day."

"Suppose so," Miles agreed reluctantly. "But will you talk to dad first?"

" 'Course," I said. "Leave it to me."

I was a long way from happy with the request, but there was nothing I could
do about it.

"Don't tell him about the stuff we do, will you?" Miles pleaded. "I'd die
if he knew about that. Tell him that we're just good friends and like being
together."

I was fairly sure that his father could probably guess what my friendship
with Miles involved, and I was also reasonably certain that he wouldn't
want any pictures drawn, so I had no hesitation in giving Miles the
assurance he wanted.

We lay quietly together for another half hour or so before Miles slowly got
up from my lap and stood facing me, his eyes still red from crying.

"Better go I suppose," he whispered. "Get it over with."

I stood up, gave him a cuddle and kissed him on the forehead.

"Good man," I said. "It won't be as bad as you think, honestly. Just be
yourself."

I watched, unbelievably sad, as Miles gathered his belongings together and
headed for the door.

"Wait," I said just as he was about to leave. Striding across, I hugged him
tightly and kissed him on the lips. The kiss was returned just as
passionately, but was broken as Miles pushed me away and left, leaving the
door open behind him.

I only had one thing left to do, and with my heart in my mouth, picked up
the 'phone to make the most difficult call I'd ever made.

To this day, I can't remember most of what I said to John, but I managed to
tell him that Miles was on the way home to have a serious talk with
him. When I told him that it wasn't going to be exactly what he wanted to
hear, he understood immediately and I heard him give a deep sigh.

"Oh well," he said. "It's nothing I didn't expect I suppose, but it's not
going to be easy for any of us."

"No, it isn't. But there's a bit more," I went on. "After what you told me
about how he feels about me, I told him that we shouldn't see each other
for a few days. It'll give him time to think about things I hope and put
things in perspective."

"Thanks," he said. "I know that must've been hard for you."

After the exchange of a few pleasantries, I thankfully put the 'phone down
and let out a huge sigh, whether from relief or frustration I'd no idea.

Picking up the undrunk cups of coffee, I rinsed them in the sink, grabbed a
bottle of scotch and sat down on the sofa. Pouring more in the glass than I
should have done, I threw it back in one go and re-filled it.

I awoke the next morning still in the same place, with an empty bottle for
company and a hangover to end all hangovers. I gave up trying to stand
after the first attempt and spent the rest of the day feeling very sorry
for myself.

* * * * *

It was three more days before I heard from the Jackson household – three
days of torture and misery. Living without Miles around was Hell. It wasn't
too unusual for us not to meet for a couple of days, but the knowledge that
we weren't going to meet anyway hurt badly. Even working didn't help as
every time I tried to concentrate, an image of Miles appeared and work
became impossible.

On the fourth day, I'd only just got out of bed when the 'phone rang. Even
without looking at the caller ID, I knew who it was and almost
panic-stricken, I clamped it to my ear.

"Yes?" I gasped.

"Hello, Alec.," a familiar voice said. "It's John. John Jackson."

"Oh, Hi!" I said lamely.

"Listen. We've had a long talk with Miles and cleared the air a bit. I
think we understand each other now and things will be OK given a bit of
time. I thought I'd ring and let you know how things are."

"Thanks," I said with some relief, "I'm glad things are OK."

"There's just one thing though," the disembodied voice said.

I stiffened as I prepared to hear the worst news possible.

"Miles is acting like a bear with a sore head. He can't understand why he
can't come and see you. Thinks he's done something wrong and you don't want
to see him any more. He's not being difficult or anything, quite the
reverse in fact, he's being as good as he can, but he's very unhappy."

"I'm not surprised" I said with more feeling than I should have done. "He
must think he's being punished for something he can't do anything about."

There was a brief pause before John went on, "That's what I thought."

The way those four words were said told me everything and I waited for him
to continue with the bad news.

"So we've said he can come over tonight for a couple of hours if that is
alright with you?"

"Yes, of course," I heard myself say. "Perfectly alright."

"Good." There was another slight pause as he considered what he said
next. "I think Miles needs to see you, and if I'm not mistaken, you need to
see him too."

"Yes. I've missed him."

There was a slightly embarrassed cough from the other end, "Yes. Well,
he'll be over tonight then, but no overnight stops, at least not yet
anyway."

"Thank you. Thank you very much," I said with heartfelt thanks, not
believing what I'd heard.

"That's OK. Expect him about six?"

"Oh, right, that'll be fine," I answered in shock, my mind doing
handsprings at the unexpected turn of events.

I collapsed on my sofa, astounded by the conversation I'd just had. Of all
the possible outcomes of the situation Miles and I had found ourselves in,
this was the last one I expected. That his father had a very good idea of
what Miles and I got up to was beyond doubt: that he was still prepared to
let the boy come visit me was also beyond question. The only reason that he
would sanction our continued relationship was for Miles benefit I
calculated – certainly it wasn't for mine. Not having a son of my own to
compare things with, I guessed that the bottom line as far as John Jackson
was concerned was his son's happiness and well-being and if that meant
allowing him to carry on with an unacceptable friendship, then so be
it. The more I thought about it, the more I admired and respected John and
Sheila Jackson. Most parents I knew from experience would have hit the
roof, laid down impossible rules for their son and no doubt report me to
the authorities as well. The incidental fact that I would almost certainly
never be invited into their home again was upsetting for me, but worth it
if it meant Miles and I could be together again.

The time past interminably slowly for the remainder of the day, despite my
attempts to take my mind off that six o'clock appointment. Eventually, I
decided that the only thing I could do was to lay on the sofa and try to
sleep the time away – that was partially successful in that I did manage
to doze off for a while, but awoke after a particularly vivid dream
involving Miles and me. It took me a good few depressing minutes to leave
the dream behind and return to the real world, thankfully to realise that I
only had about an hour to wait, time I used to clean and tidy the flat for
the third time that day.

Despite the fact that I was waiting anxiously for the door bell to ring, I
almost jumped out of my skin when the strident tones broke into my
labours. A glance at the clock told me that he was ten minutes early: he
was obviously as keen as I was to renew our friendship. Feeling
unaccountably nervous, I opened the door and stood, frozen to the spot as
my eyes took in the so-longed for sight. We stared at each other wordlessly
for a minute, the shock of meeting again so unexpectedly hitting us a lot
harder than we thought it would.

Neither of us knew what to say – there weren't any words to express our
feelings just at that moment and so we did the only thing possible – we
hugged tightly, ignoring the fact that the door was still wide open. Miles,
I realised was now almost as tall as I was and he dropped his head onto my
shoulder, his tear-dampened face pressing against my neck. After what
seemed an age we broke our embrace, looked into one another's eyes and
kissed passionately. Dragging him inside, I kicked the door closed and we
clung on to each other, still not quite believing that we were actually
holding one another once more.

"How are you?" I said, at the same time Miles asked me the same question.

We smiled happily at each other and kissed lightly once again.

"How's things?" I enquired.

"OK now," he said. "Mum and dad seem to be alright with things, but it was
Hell being grounded for a while. They only let me out because I was being
an arsehole!" he grinned. "Had a major case of the sulks," he added.

"You wouldn't believe how much I've missed you," I said quietly. "But it
was worth it."

"How so?" Miles asked, looking at me.

"Because they more or less know we are something a bit more than just
friends. I think they have probably guessed that much."

"Yeah, you're probably right, but they haven't said anything though. They
haven't even asked about any of my mates either."

"That a good thing or not?" I asked.

"Probably good. You said that one day they'd realise how things stood
between you and me without being told, and that's what's happened. Can't
say they're over the moon about it, but at least they haven't done anything
to stop us."

"Except not let you stay overnight," I added.

Miles laughed lightly, "No, but that don't matter all that much. They'll
changed their mind later on, I just know they will."

Conversation died for a moment or two so I asked if he wanted a cup of
coffee or anything.

"No, thanks. There's only one thing I want right now."

With that he rolled over and stretched out on the sofa, placed his head in
my lap as he'd done dozens of times before, and unbuttoned my
shirt. Slipping his arms inside, he cuddled up and sighed contentedly.

"That's better!" he moaned.

He was right of course. I too sighed in perfect contentment, still not
quite believing we were together again. As if to confirm any doubts I may
have had, I rested a hand on his jeans-covered thigh and ran the fingers of
my other hand through his hair.

"Feels better somehow, knowing mum and dad know about us," Miles
muttered. "I feel sorta more relaxed and comfortable about it. Not having
to keep it such a secret."

"Know what you mean," I agreed. "Can't say they're too happy with me
though."

"No, I suppose not, but they'll get over it eventually. Just give 'em
time."

We chatted on for ages about all sorts of stuff. We'd only been separated a
few days, but it felt like a month and we had a surprising number of things
to say, most of which was inane rubbish, but it was nice to be able to
ramble on like friends do.

"Oh, bollocks!" Miles suddenly said, sitting up.

Before I could ask what the problem was, he removed his shirt, closely
followed by his trousers. Within seconds he was back, clad in only his
white pants.

"Better!" he giggled and put my hand into his groin, allowing me to feel
his still soft cock.

I looked at him in surprise – my own dick was well on they way to full
erection, as it had been for some time.

"Dirty sod!" he laughed as he rubbed his head on it.

"Whatever!" I smiled, conscious of the fact that the bulge in his pants was
getting larger.

Reaching up, he pressed his lips against mine and whispered, "Bedroom?"

Minutes later we were embracing under the covers, both naked. There was no
need for words now as we let our hands confirm that neither of us had
changed in the slightest. Yet again I was amazed to find that even now, sex
wasn't the most important, or even uppermost, thing on our minds. The
simple joy of embracing and kissing was enough – and the knowledge that
the person held most dear to you in all the world was once again in your
bed. I broke our kiss, held his head between my hands and looked into his
eyes, only mildly surprised to see tears running down his cheeks, just as
they were mine.

"Oh, fuck it!" he said almost inaudibly. "Bollocks!"

"What?" I whispered.

"I wasn't gonna cry. Life's been fuckin' Hell the past few days. I thought
I was never going to see you again."

"Me too, me too," I replied. "But it's all over now. Let's try and forget
it."

That got me a little smile as he wiped away his tears with the back of his
hand. "Hold me," he whispered.

I hugged him tightly, my arms round his waist.

"Not like that," he chided. "Give me your hand."

Taking the proffered hand, he placed it firmly on his softened cock and
wriggled closer to me, but not before he'd wrapped his fingers around mine.

We were laying together in a comfortable silence each with his own thoughts
when I felt Miles trembling alongside me. Thinking he was crying again, I
lifted his head up and was nonplussed when I saw him laughing to himself.

"What?" I asked curiously.

"Just thinkin'," he giggled once he'd stopped. "Do you know you've seen me
bollock naked more often than my parents have!"

I grinned back at him and asked what brought that thought on.

"Oh, nothing really. Just thinkin' how nice this is. Pity it can't always
be like this."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I said lamely, not being able to think of
anything else.

I felt his cock twitch a bit under my hand and harden a little.

"What you thinking now?" I laughed, giving his pride and joy a squeeze.

"You don't wanna know," he replied, starting to laugh again. "But hey, it's
been ages since I came. Want to do something about it?"

Moving away slightly to give us more room, I started to jack him off
slowly. "When was the last time?" I asked.

"Not since ... Since the last time I was here," he said. "Just haven't felt
like it until now. You?"

"Same," I told him.

"Wanna 69?" he asked, his eyes sparkling.

I nodded and turned over onto my back, watching eagerly as he manoeuvred
into place.

"Oh shit!" I moaned as I felt his mouth engulf me hungrily.

Not unexpectedly we didn't last very long: we were both more than ready for
it and the period of enforced abstinence didn't help either. With a sense
of urgency born out of desperation and a longing to re-affirm our
closeness, we deposited our offerings much sooner than usual and with
well-satisfied moans we grinned at one another like the proverbial Cheshire
cats.

"Thanks," Miles said, his face wreathed in smiles. "I needed that!"

"Me too," I agreed. "Welcome home!" I added, running my fingers down his
chest.

"I wish," he said almost plaintively.

"Don't even go down that road," I said. "I think we've got enough problems
already without you moving in!"

This raised a laugh before he added, "I know that. Nice to pretend
though. If only ..."

I pressed my lips against his to stop him talking, only to find ourselves
tongue-wrestling and our hitherto flaccid dicks coming to life again.

"Gotta be home by ten," he said after a while. "How long we got?"

" 'Bout two hours."

"Good."

The two hours were spent in a blissful combination of idle chatter and
peaceful fondling, the unpleasant memories of the recent past rapidly
vanishing into the ether.

"So," Miles said as the time for parting approached. "When we gonna get
together again?"

"Don't know. Depends on your mum and dad really I suppose, but we'd better
stick to their rules," I replied. "You never know, they might relax them a
bit if we behave ourselves."

"Yeah, I guess," Miles said wistfully as he dressed.

* * * * *

With some reluctance, Miles and I adapted to the new regime and time passed
slowly for us, the highlights of both our weeks being the days when his
parents sanctioned a visit. Although I spoke to John and Sheila on the
'phone fairly regularly they kept me at a distance, not yet quite sure of
my true relationship with Miles, and unwilling to ask me directly – for
which I was grateful. Once in a while Sheila even came to visit me at home
during the day, with a 'I happened to be in the area' sort of comment. We
chatted easily enough and in a weird sort of way I actually came to enjoy
her visits.

It was on one such visit that she happened to spot some of Miles' college
books and unfinished work on the worktop in my office. Interestedly, she
picked them up and skimmed through them.

"I didn't realise that Miles did so much work here," she said, replacing
them. "I'm impressed. He's working harder than I thought."

"Yeah," I agreed. "He's doing well. I think he finds it easier to work here
sometimes – we're close to the college and I can always help him out if
he gets stuck."

She smiled at me and nodded her head in agreement. "I can understand that:
you have more in common with him than John and I have. English Literature
and History aren't one of our strong points, I'm afraid."

She took a long approving look round my workplace, her eyes resting on the
made-up spare bed without comment. What she thought I'd no idea, but it
evidently pleased her as she smiled slightly to herself. Quite what she
would have thought if she knew that the bedside drawers held little else
but spare clothes for Miles, and that the bed hadn't actually been slept in
yet, I didn't want to know.

Returning to the sitting room, we carried on talking for a while, mainly
about inconsequentials until it was time for her to go.

"Thanks for the coffee," she smiled as she stood up. "You've made it nice
here. For a bachelor, it's quite homely."


Chapter 9

I didn't think too much about this conversation for a few days until the
following Wednesday when Miles came to visit.

"Mum likes your flat," he said as he worked his way through a plate of
Spag. Bol. I'd made for us. "Said it was surprisingly neat and tidy for a
man living alone," he giggled.

I looked at him curiously. From the way he'd spoken, there was more to
come.

"And?" I queried.

"I can come here whenever I like!" he almost shouted, "We're not on
probation anymore!"

With that he leapt up from from his chair, bounded across to me and planted
a big, wet kiss on my lips then sat himself on my lap. I wiped the spicy
sauce from our lips and kissed him back, hugging him tightly. "Really?" I
asked.

"Yep. Long as I'm home by about ten, and they know I'm here, it's OK!"

I was over the moon. Obviously the visit I'd had the other day had had some
effect on his mother and I'd passed some sort of test or other. Perhaps it
was the work she'd seen, or the tidiness of the place, or whatever – I
didn't care, I was just happy.

"What made them change their mind?" I asked.

"Dunno really. Dad said something about being pleased to hear I was doing
OK at college and that you had a lot to do with it."

"Of course," I laughed. "If it wasn't for me doing all your work for you,
you'd be out on your ear!"

"Piss Off! You don't help me as much as that, and you know it." Miles
grinned.

Miles settled himself more comfortably in my lap and wrapped his arms round
my neck happily.

I looked at his face, his joy evident in his sparkling eyes and contented
smile. A tide of love flushed through me and I hugged him tighter, planting
a kiss on his forehead. Miles smiled up at me and sighed.

We sat in comfortable silence for ages, neither of us moving. Until that
is, Miles wriggled his butt into my groin and looked at me, a wicked leer
on his face which could mean only one thing.

"Bedroom?" he whispered.

"Homework?" I replied.

"In the bedroom," he sniggered. "Come on, I'll show you."

Sliding off my knees, he pulled me to my feet and looked at me longingly.

I gazed back at him, radiating all the love I felt for him. I also realised
with a shock how much he'd grown since I'd first known him. He was almost
as tall as me now, and not far off my weight either. There were other
things too. More personal things which only he and I knew about – the
magnificent bush of hair he was sprouting and the slow but certain growth
of that part of him that made him a boy. What had once been his four (and a
bit!) inches was now a certain six inches, and all the better for it! There
was also his increased maturity. No longer was he a nervous, uncertain
youngster afraid of his own feelings, but a handsome young man, comfortable
with his sexuality at least as far as he and I were concerned.

That isn't to say that he didn't relapse into a skittish, impatient child
once in a while as he demonstrated now by stripping off as fast as he could
and standing impatiently before me, his beautiful erection bouncing up and
down expectantly between us.

I finished undressing and took hold of his wrists, unashamedly looking at
him slowly from head to toe as if for the first time.

"Beautiful!" I murmured. "Simply beautiful!"

"Bollocks!" he laughed, letting go of me and jumping in to bed, but not
before I'd noticed the slight reddening of his face and chest.

"Men aren't beautiful," he said as we embraced and made ourselves
comfortable. "Men are good-looking or handsome, not beautiful."

"Rubbish!" I argued as I stroked his hair. "Lots of men are handsome or
good-looking, but very few are beautiful."

"But only women are beaut ..." he started to say, but then it dawned on him
what I actually implied.

He blushed even deeper and stopped smiling.

"You really lo... Really like me," he whispered quietly.

"More than I can say," I replied.

Suddenly he wrapped himself round me, legs entwined with mine and his arms
clasped tightly round my neck. He kissed me fervently and passionately,
allowing his emotions to flow freely, along with a few tears.

"I fuckin' hate you!" he whispered as we broke apart. "You made me cry
again."

"Tears of?" I ventured.

"Dunno. I'm so, so happy it hurts," he said after some thought.

"Me too." I told him.

We cuddled in silence for a while as our emotions subsided a bit.

"It's not just the sex, is it," Miles said. Statement, not question.

"No, it never has been really, has it?"

"No, I don't suppose so," Miles replied. "That's nice, but it's not
everything is it? Never really thought about it properly before."

I turned over on to my back and rested Miles' head on my chest, hands
clasped in the small of his back.

"When we first met at school, you know, when you showed me that story you
found, I started to like you then but I couldn't do anything about it
because I was your teacher. I even tried to stop seeing you, but you
wouldn't let me," I half-laughed. "You were such a persistent, manipulative
character that I had no chance!"

"Sorry!" Miles mumbled, "But I really liked you."

"That's what I mean. It wasn't the sex then, and it isn't the sex now. It's
just for some unknown reason we like each other a great deal, and in a way
which not many people are lucky enough to find. The sex is a sort of bonus,
an added extra if you like. Important, but not essential if you see what I
mean."

I thought I might be going too far with Miles, asking him to understand
something which he may be too young to comprehend, and so stopped to let
him absorb it.

"We're special, aren't we?" Miles pondered. "I mean special to each
other. Like we aren't sort of complete without each other."

"Exactly. How's that make you feel?"

"Good," Miles said. "But a bit sorta scared as well."

"Scared? What of?"

"Dunno. That perhaps one day we won't want to see each other anymore. That
p'raps one day we won't like each other so much."

"Do you think that'll ever happen?" I said.

"No. Never." Miles said firmly, pressing himself against me as hard as he
could.

"Me neither, but you can never tell."

"Bollocks!" he said as much to himself as to me.

Once again we drifted off into our own thoughts for a while. I thought
Miles had drifted off to sleep in fact – he was so quiet. I turned our
conversation over in my mind as we relaxed together. I'd written about this
sort of conversation several times in the stories I'd written and was
familiar with the scenario, but to meet it myself for the first time was
totally different to what I imagined. There was no way had I even come
close to explaining the emotions and feelings that pervaded the atmosphere
– it was much more intense than I could ever put down in writing, which
for an ex- teacher of English is quite an admission. Smiling ruefully to
myself, I embraced the young man in my arms and rested.

"My dicks gone soft," Miles giggled after a few minutes, bringing me out of
my somewhat self-indulgent reverie.

"So? What do you expect me to do about it?" I asked, grateful for the
change in atmosphere.

"Talk to it. Play with it. Do what you like, it's all yours," he
laughed. "I don't care. Just do something with it!"

Instantly the intense atmosphere we'd created for ourselves evaporated as I
reached down and grasped the offending member, stroking it back to life
much to our mutual satisfaction. My own member rose up in unison, much to
Miles' delight as he wrapped his delicate fingers round it.

"That's better," he sighed happily. "Wanna suck it and see?"

For the next hour we rolled and tumbled about in the bed like hyperactive
kids on a sugar high, revelling in the intimacy of close physical contact
and shared passions. Eventually we tired ourselves out and fell back in the
bed, cuddling one another gently.

"I could stay here for ever," Miles muttered contentedly as he listened to
my heart beat.

"Me too," I agreed.

"Think my mum and dad will ever let me stay overnight again?" Miles asked.

"Not in a million years," I sniggered. "They may not be certain that we are
a bit more than friends, but an overnight stop would put it beyond doubt I
would think."

"Why?" Miles said. "If we wanted to mess about, we could do it whenever we
wanted in the daytime. Staying overnight wouldn't make things any
different."

"No, but look at it from their point of view. Spending time here in the
daytime is OK – we could be working together, or just talking for that
matter, but an overnight sleep-over would almost force them into facing the
possibility that we are more than just friends. Remember that your dad at
least has a rough idea of what is going on, but so far he's ignoring
it. Wanting to sleep here would probably confirm his worst thoughts."

"So? I would tell him that nothing happened; that we just watched films or
something and I slept in the spare bed."

"Do you think he'd believe you? That I spent the night in the company of
the most attractive and sexy boy I know and that we did nothing except eat
pizza and watch 'Harry Potter'? That you undressed, showered and changed
into your pyjamas without me trying to take advantage of your innocence? He
knows us both too well to believe that."

" 'Spose so. But there must be a way round it," Miles giggled. "I'll work
on it."

"In that case, your dad might just as well give in now," I laughed. "He's
got no chance if you've made your mind up."

"Hope so," he whispered as we embraced and kissed once more.

Sliding his legs out of bed, Miles stretched and yawned widely. "I need a
shower," he informed me, and set about gathering his long-forgotten clothes
together. Entranced, I watched him, unable to take my eyes off his stunning
nakedness. With clothes bundled in his arms, he turned to face me.

"Perv!" he laughed, wriggling his for-once flaccid cock at me.

"Piss off!" I mouthed back, putting a hand on my own anything but soft
dick.

* * * * *

And so life went on. Miles and I slipped into a pleasant routine which
suited us both, and more importantly, satisfied his parents. I still had
visits from his mother fairly regularly, but they became much more friendly
and sociable, after all my flat was conveniently situated for a coffee
break when she was out working or shopping. More than once Miles was
already at home with me when she turned up, and thankfully he was either
working or watching TV when she arrived. Experience had taught us to
reserve our other activities until the evening when we could be sure she
was at home.

The next sea-change in our domestic life came the following January when
the college changed Miles' timetable. Because of staff changes, Miles
English History class had been moved to a Monday evening, starting at seven
and finishing at about half past eight. Right from the start, there were
problems. Firstly his parents decided, quite rightly, that it was unsafe
for him to use his bike at night, the main road being far too dangerous in
the dark. He tried to use the bus a few times, but more often than not,
there were groups of the local yobs riding the buses who made life
uncomfortable, if not dangerous, for Miles. I was aware of the problem of
course, but thought that it had been sorted out when it was arranged for
either his mother or father to pick him up from college. This didn't last
long as neither of them really wanted their evenings broken into by a drive
into town and back at a time which wasn't always convenient. For a couple
of weeks, Miles came round to my flat after college and his parents dropped
by to pick him up sometime later in the evening, but even this palled one
particularly stormy night.

At about ten o'clock, Miles and I were disturbed by the 'phone
ringing. There could only be one person who would call at this time of
night: Miles and I looked at each other questioningly.

"Hello?" I said, staring at Miles.

It was his father.

"Look," he said. "Would you mind if Miles stayed with you tonight? It's a
filthy evening and neither Sheila nor I fancy going out in it. I know Miles
won't object, but is it OK with you?"

"Yes, of course, it'd be a pleasure."

"Mmmm," he replied thoughtfully. "Put Miles on will you?"

I watched Miles face change from concern to happiness as he listened to his
dad.

"Yes. Yes. No." I heard Miles say, his joy only just being contained.

Putting the 'phone down almost before he'd said 'goodnight', Miles bounded
across the room and threw his arms round me, grinning from ear to ear. As
we hugged, I was left in no doubt as to how pleased he was at the
unexpected turn of events, the hardness pressing into my thigh told me all
I needed to know.

"So, what did he say?" I asked.

"Just told me to behave myself and make sure I get to college on time in
the morning," he sniggered.

"And are you?"

"What? Getting to college on time? Of course."

"And behave yourself?"

"Of course. Don't I always?"

I think his definition of 'behave' was rather different to his father's,
but who was I to argue?

"OK, then. Let's get things organised." I said. "You go and make the spare
bed up and I'll get us some supper."

Miles took a step back and looked at me as if I was insane. "What?" he said
in disbelief.

"Supper," I confirmed. "I assume you're hungry?"

"No. I mean yes, but the spare bed?"

"Of course. Didn't I just hear you say you'd behave yourself?"

"Well, yeah. But I didn't mean ..." he tailed off, confused.

I couldn't keep it up of course, and broke out in a fit of giggles. I was
just as happy as him, and there was no way that he would sleep alone if I
had anything to do with it.

"Make the bed up anyway. We're sure to get a visit tomorrow from your mum,
and the least she'll expect is to see that the bed has been used."

"Oh, yeah. Hadn't thought of that. Better go and do it I suppose. I'll get
ready for bed at the same time," he added, giving me an unmistakeable leer.

Before long we were in front of the TV with a snack in front of us. Miles
had 'got ready for bed' simply by stripping down to his briefs. Without a
trace of embarrassment he pushed me down onto the sofa, removed my shirt
and loosened my trousers. Once the lights had been dimmed, he arranged
himself with his head in my lap and almost purred with delight as he made
himself comfortable. To give him his due, he tried to behave as 'grown up'
as possible, just as if what we were doing was perfectly normal and
routine. He gave himself away though by turning round to look at me every
so often and grinning like an impish child doing something naughty, his
eyes shining happily.

It was evident that there were other things on his mind other than the
inane TV programme we were watching as before long he turned over to put
his back to the television, wrapped his arms round my waist and snuggled up
closely.

"What time we going to bed?" he asked, faking a deep yawn.

" 'Bout eleven I suppose," I told him, glancing at the clock which read
just after 10.30.  Miles pulled a grimace and said, "That's a bit late. I'm
tired now."

"So? You know where it is, go now if you like. I'll try not to wake you
when I come to bed."

Miles started to say something, but changed his mind, stuck his tongue out
at me mischievously and rubbed his head against my cock. Out of the corner
of my eye I could see that his own dick was already hard in
anticipation. Gently I rested a hand on it, feeling its stiffness and
warmth through his pants.

He moaned quietly and looked up at me. "Please?" he mouthed.

I was of course just as keen as he was to get bed, but I couldn't resist
teasing him just a little more.

"Ten minutes," I smiled.

"Five?" he giggled.

"Five," I agreed.

We would have made the five minutes if Miles hadn't decided to help things
along by stretching down and removing his last piece of clothing, leaving
him enticingly naked, his erection pointing in my direction.

"Not fair!" I smiled, closing my eyes to rid myself of the vision.

I felt his lips meet mine in a tender, urgent kiss.

"Come on," he whispered hoarsely, "The five minutes will be up by the time
we get into bed."

One of the nicest aspects of my flat was that once you were in bed with all
the lights out, you had a magnificent view of the night sky. I had spent
many a night simply staring at the stars in wonderment and awe, counting
the shooting stars. Miles, happy now that we were sharing our bed together,
did his usual thing and cuddled up to me and gave me a kiss. Neither of us
were ever anxious to get into the sex bit straight away, the company of
each other being much more important.

"Wow! He said quietly looking up at the heavens for the first time. "That's
fantastic!"

It was too: not only had I got a brilliant view through the window, but I
had a beautiful boy to share it with as well. Feeling surprisingly at peace
with the world, I leaned over and gave Miles a deep kiss in gratitude for
life being so generous and good to me.

We chatted about Miles college for a while, about how he was getting on and
stuff. We also talked about his life at home in round-about terms, deciding
eventually that his parents knew about us in all probability and had more
or less accepted it.

"We were right then," he sighed.

"About what?"

"Not telling them straight out that we were, are, 'partners', and letting
them work it out for themselves."

"Yeah, guess so. Your dad almost surely knows anyway."

"So does mum then," Miles added.

"What do you think about it?" I asked.

"Dunno. I'm sorta glad they know, I couldn't ever have told them
outright. At least they've stopped asking me about girlfriends," he
laughed.

Gradually the conversation died down as we took pleasure in each other, our
kisses and embraces getting more passionate as we lost ourselves in our
private world.

As I let my hands wander, I soon found them cupping his beautiful butt,
pulling his groin tightly into mine, relishing the feeling of our dicks
being squeezed together. For some reason, I began to run a finger between
his butt cheeks, slowly working it deeper and deeper until I came across
that one part of his body that I'd never touched. With a shock, I realised
what I was doing and pulled my hand away, apologising. We'd never trodden
this route before, not so directly anyway. We'd talked about it once
before, but only en passant so to speak and not in any depth – neither
of us had been interested in taking it any further.

That's why I was astonished when Miles put my hand back and whisper, "Put
it back. I like that. Feels good."

Doing as I was told, I replaced my finger and began to toy with him
delicately.

Miles shuddered slightly as I pushed a finger against his hole, hugged me
even tighter and moaned. Suddenly his hole opened and my finger slipped
in. Before I could withdraw it, Miles clamped a hand over mine and stopped
me.

His breathing quickened and I felt him shudder again. It took him a minute
or two to get used to the intrusion and move his hand away.

"Leave it in," he said quietly. "It feels OK."

Very slowly I started to work my finger in and out, pressing in deeper and
deeper with each move, concentrating on making it feel as good as possible
for him and searching for that little spot that I knew was there somewhere.

When I found it, Miles eyes flashed open and his jaw dropped in
astonishment, his dick getting even harder as I tickled his prostate.

I could feel that he was getting closer and closer to orgasm as I played
around, but pulled out before he did – I didn't want to bring things to
a head so quickly, it was early yet.

"That was different!" he grinned as I embraced him. Then, after a pause he
added seriously, "What's it like? You know, doing 'it'."

"I don't, or didn't, like it much," I started. "I wasn't much older than
you – It was with a mate of mine I knew from school. Neither of us liked
it very much, probably because we didn't know what we were doing!" I
laughed.

"What and never tried since?" he asked, his mind obviously ticking over.

"Couple of times at College. It was better then because we knew more what
to do, but I'm still not sure about it."

"What, about using lube? KY Jelly and stuff?" Miles giggled.

The bloody internet had a lot to answer for, I thought to myself. I didn't
even know things like that existed until I was at college.

"Yeah," I agreed. "That helps, but I still think it's a bit sort of
brutal."

"Can we try it?" Miles whispered plaintively. "I'd really like to."

"I don't know," I said, stroking his hair. "You might not like it. I don't
have any lube anyway."

"I don't mean now. Later on, you know, when we're in the mood. I wouldn't
mind trying it once just to see what it's like."

I sighed deeply and looked at him, trying to judge how serious he was. His
face told me everything needed to know and so I replied, "Perhaps."

This was enough for him and the subject was dropped at least for the time
being, but I knew Miles well enough to know that the topic wasn't closed by
any means and I'd better get a stock of KY in.

Despite knowing where it had just been, Miles took my finger and put it in
his mouth, covering it with a good layer of spit. "Put it back," he
said. "I think I could get to like it!"

This time I managed to work two fingers in, much to Miles delight and I
finger-fucked him as slowly as I could, watching his face contort with
ecstasy as I played with him. He started to jack me off in time with my
manipulations, but soon lost interest as he approached orgasm. Hugging him
tightly, I speeded up and watched as he spasmed time and time again,
releasing a fountain of juice against my navel. He shivered and shuddered
for what seemed like ages until he'd finished: his whole body glowing with
an all-over flush, eyes glassed over and his mouth agape.

Once he'd regained his senses, he shook his head disbelievingly and just
managed to stammer out "Fuckin' Hell!" before he broke out in a fit of
giggles.

We dozed off and on then until well after midnight, Miles then dropping off
to a deep sleep, still embracing me. I lay awake for a little while,
turning things over in my mind until I too fell asleep ...

... Only to be awoken in the early hours by Miles sucking me
gently. Without once interrupting his rhythm, his eyes smiled at me as he
concentrated. I lay back and let him carry on until I shot my load straight
down his throat.

Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he simply said, "You didn't get
off last night, so I thought I'd do something about it!"

"Thanks!" I grinned. "I like being woken up like that."

I'd long since found that the time between when you wake up and when you
have to get out of bed is the best time of the day, particularly when you
have a little Adonis sharing it with you. Lazily we stared out of the
window at the rising sun, thinking of nothing at all except each other.

"Time is it?" I asked sometime later.

" 'bout seven," Miles yawned. "Time we got up I suppose. Unless we got time
for ..."

"No, we haven't!" I said. "I know you. Once we start, we'd be here all
day!"

"So?" he giggled. "I wouldn't mind."

"What, and have your mother's suspicions confirmed absolutely? I don't
think she'd be too impressed by finding us like this, do you?"

" 'spose not," Miles agreed, then added, "If I know my mum, she'll be here
before she goes to work."

"Sure?" I asked, panicking slightly.

"Almost. I know how her mind works."

"Right," I said as the information soaked into my brain. "Let's get
organised. You make the spare bed look like it's been slept in and then
grab a shower. I'll start breakfast and shower after you."

She arrived at about a quarter to eight, by which time Miles and I had
showered, dressed and were having breakfast.

"Thought I'd just drop by to see how Miles is," she smiled. "I know what
he's like in the morning!"

"He's fine," I said, looking over at him as innocently as I could. "Help
yourself to coffee, it's over on the side."

Sheila helped herself, taking the opportunity to ruffle Miles hair as she
passed and ask how he was.

"Mmmm!" he mumbled, his mouth full of food.

"Good!" she replied and started to wander about the flat as we carried on
eating. We were undergoing an inspection, of that I was sure. It didn't
take her long to check the beds out and notice with a wry smile that Miles
back-pack was in the middle of the spare room and that the bed was in a
mess. Not for the first time, I thanked the gods for Miles intelligence and
quick thinking.

Evidently satisfied, she joined us at the table and helped herself to a
slice of toast.

"Want a lift?" she said to Miles as she got ready to leave.

"Yes, please," Miles said, "If you're going that way."

"Come on then," she went on. "Thanks, Alec."

"That's OK," I replied, grateful that she was on her way.

On her way out, she stooped down and picked up Miles underpants from the
living room floor. With hardly a change in pace, she handed them to Miles
and said, "You'd better put these in your bag and bring them home with
you." Her face showed no emotion at all.

Blushing deeply, Miles took them and simply said, "Wondered where they'd
got to. I changed for bed in here last night and I couldn't find 'em this
morning."

I'm sure that I blushed just as much as Miles, but fortunately she never
turned round to look at me. 'Oh fuck!' was my only thought.

Once they'd gone, I collapsed on the sofa and cursed myself for not
checking round the flat. 'Now,' I thought to myself, 'The shit is really
gonna hit the fan!'

Some ten minutes later, the phone rang, almost giving me heart attack.

"Hello?" I said nervously.

"Watcha!" said a surprisingly chirpy Miles. "Almost crapped myself," he
laughed. "Talk about being embarrassed!"

"What'd she say?" I stammered out.

"Not much. Just told me to be more careful where I leave my things in
future."

"You reckon she knows then?"

"If she didn't then, she knows now," he went on, a note of seriousness
creeping in to his voice. "Or as good as anyway."

"How? What?" I queried.

"She asked me which bed I slept in."

"Christ! What did you say?"

"Nothing. I just looked at her and didn't answer."

"Damn!" I said with feeling.

"Don't worry. I think she's OK with it. When she dropped me off, she kissed
me on the cheek and told me that she loves me! If she'd been really pissed
off, I would've got the silent treatment and she'd've grounded me."

"Thank Christ for that," I said.

"Anyway, I gotta go. See you tonight!"

Before I could say anything, the line went dead and I replaced the receiver
thoughtfully. What were the last words he said? See you tonight? I was
mistaken surely.

* * * * * *

I was wrong. Miles arrived just after four o'clock, breathless and sweaty.

Once we'd hugged and kissed, Miles sat on the kitchen table and watched as
I made tea for us.

"I thought I'd shit myself when she gave me my pants," he sniggered. "I
didn't think, just put on the clean pair I brought with me."

"You and me both," I agreed. "What else did she say?"

"Not much. Like I told you, just hugged me and told me she loves me. It's
what she didn't say that's important. She didn't have a go at me or
anything and she must know that at the very least, I must've stripped off
in front of you. And she didn't say I couldn't come here anymore."

"So, what happens next?"

"Nothing much I expect. I only stopped by to tell you all about it. I'm not
stopping too long, I got some homework to do and I didn't tell here I was
coming here. Be here Friday though, and I'm gonna stay the night."

I looked at him and raised my eyebrows questioningly.

"Leave it to me. That'll be no problem, not now I've stayed once."

He paused for a moment, grasping his tea thoughtfully.

"I think she knows you and me are OK. Really OK, I mean. Good friends as
well as everything else. You ain't just after my body!" he smiled.

Chapter 10.

Things moved rapidly over the next few days. Sheila dropped by a couple of
times for her usual coffee break, but said nothing about the underwear
incident. In fact we didn't talk of Miles at all except the occasional word
in passing – it was almost as if we were back to the friendship we had
before things began to go wrong for Miles and me. The only thing of note
was that she asked if he had any clothes here. "I'm not being nosey or
anything, it's just that he seems to be missing some. Jeans and T-shirts,
that sort of thing."

I felt comfortable enough with that and had no hesitation in showing her
the chest of drawers in the spare room that Miles had sequestrated for
himself. "He'll need a few more shirts and things," she finished by
saying. "I'll bring some over."

True to her word, she turned up on Friday morning with a bag of clean
shirts and some more underwear. I felt a bit embarrassed watching her put
them away, knowing what must be at the back of her mind – I even felt
slightly guilty, knowing that she and I were, in a way, sharing her son
between us.

"Tell Miles I'll see him sometime over the week-end," she said as she left,
leaving me open-mouthed.

Being a half-day, Miles appeared just after lunch, replete with over-night
bag and a smile stretching from ear to ear.

"Told you it'd be OK, didn't I?" he said cheerfully, dropping his bag where
he stood and giving me a hug.

"Yeah, but you didn't tell me that she was moving you in here, did you?"

"What?" he replied, puzzled.

"Your mother was kind enough to drop by this morning and bring half your
wardrobe with her."

"You're joking!" he said, truly surprised.

"Look in your draws," I told him.

"Christ!" he muttered as he checked out what she'd brought.

"So what did you say to her to bring this about?"

"Dunno. Just told her last night that I would be staying here
tonight. That's all I think."

"Well, it's done the trick. All she said to me was that she'd see you
sometime over the week-end."

For once, Miles was left speechless as the full import of what she'd said
struck home. "Fuck me!" was all he could managed to say in awe.

Miles being Miles, it didn't take him long to get over the shock and before
long he was helping himself to a snack from the 'fridge.

"We gotta go shopping," he told me once he'd fed himself. "I need
toothbrushes and stuff if I'm staying here, and you need some more food!"

Half an hour later we were wandering around the supermarket food hall doing
our best to fill a trolley with food and drink – enough for a month
rather than two days I thought to myself as I queued up to pay.

"You wait here a bit," Miles suddenly said as I neared the
check-out. "Forgot my toothbrush and stuff."

With that he shot off, leaving me to cope with the bagging up. It wasn't
long though before he was back, throwing another little bag in with our
shopping. "Come on," he said gaily, "Time for coffee. My treat!"

We'd only been sat down for a little while before Miles stood up and said,
"I just gotta go and make a 'phone call. Back in a few minutes."

Only slightly puzzled, I watched as he made his way the the public 'phones
across the other side of the cafeteria. True to his word, he was back in a
little while, but with a strange look on his face – one I hadn't seen
before.

"What's the matter?" I said, slightly worried.

Miles just shook his head and said nothing. He didn't seem angry or upset
or anything, just thoughtful if anything and so I left him alone. It was
only later in the car on the way home he told me what had happened.

"I thought I'd better call home and tell mum thanks for the clothes and
stuff. And, you know, tell her thanks for letting me stay over."

"That was thoughtful of you," I said carefully, waiting to hear the rest.

"Yeah. Well. Then she said that I was a young man now and could start
making my own decisions about things and that I could stay with you
whenever I wanted as long as she knew where I was. And that she thought I
was old enough to know what I was doing."

"Christ!" I mouthed in amazement.

"Yeah. It sorta shook me a bit to hear her tell me that straight out like
that. She must really love me to say that."

"I'm sure she does. That's why she's let you go. She also knows that you
and me are, well, 'partners'. She just wants the best for you."

Miles looked at me with tears in his eyes and grabbed my hand firmly. "I
love you both," he said quietly but with firm conviction. "It's not just a
game, is it?"

"No, not any more," I said.

Miles was still subdued even after all the food we'd bought had been put
away. I left him alone for as long as I could, but once we'd settled down
in the sitting room, I pulled him over and sat him down. Before joining
him, I grabbed a bottle of wine from the cupboard and a couple of glasses.

"Drink?" I said.

"Yeah. Thanks." he mumbled.

Although not regular or frequent drinkers, both Miles and I enjoyed a glass
or two when out for dinner or something. It had always acted as a good
relaxer and social lubricant and I hoped that it would do the same now.

Half a bottle later and he was definitely feeling better. With a belch loud
enough to waken the dead, he broke out into a fit of giggles and wrapped
himself round me, very much back to his old self.

"Got anything planned for the week-end?" he asked.

"Nothing special," I said. "Unless there's something you want to do."

That earned me a 'what do you think?' stare and a long kiss.

As the evening drew in, Miles and I hardly moved from where we were and it
wasn't until one of us had to get up to turn the lights on that we
disturbed ourselves. Once the curtains had been drawn and the wall-lights
gave out their warm glow, we settled down again.

"This is just about perfect," I sighed, running a finger round Miles' face.

"Mmmm," he agreed, eyes closed.

I was aware of a strange feeling as we cuddled up and watched TV, one I had
difficulty in pinning down at first. Then it dawned on me like a
thunderbolt – I was perfectly happy in a way that I hadn't been for
years, if ever. I had a nice home, good job and no major problems. Most of
all though, for the first time I had someone to share it with. For most of
my adult life I had come to terms with the fact that I would always live
alone, and was quite content with it: I couldn't ever imagine living with
anyone else, I valued my freedom and independence too much. But that was
before I met Miles. Even then I never really thought seriously about the
two of us sharing a home – it was never on the agenda as far as I was
concerned and I'd never allowed the possibility to cross my mind. Until
now. I'd always been worried about what his parents (among others!) would
think if they ever found out about us, and now they had it was as if a
great load had been lifted off my shoulders. OK, it was only a tacit
approval, unspoken yet accepted, but it was good enough for me and far more
than I deserved or expected. Unbeknown to Miles, he had given me a reason
to live, to take care of myself and more importantly a reason to think of
someone else apart from me. Don't get me wrong: it wasn't a maudlin or
depressing thought, it was a deeply satisfying one. The place I lived in
was now a home and not just a house.

Leaning down, I kissed Miles long and passionately, letting my love flow
freely. Miles broke the kiss and stared at me curiously – he could sense
that there was a change in me. There was no way I could put my thoughts
into words that would make any sense to him. Instead I simply said,
"Welcome home!"

The significance didn't escape him and he returned the kiss just as
passionately.

"Stupid bugger!" he muttered, half smiling at me.

He was on the verge of tears I could tell, but rather than let me see him
cry, he slid to his feet and headed for the bathroom. "Need a piss!" he
mumbled.

I heard him pattering about the flat for a while after he'd finished and
then the shower running. Before long he returned to the living room freshly
scrubbed and shining bright, wearing nothing but his undies.

It didn't take him long to reduce me to the same state, but instead of
kissing me as I expected, he insisted that we lay together on the sofa,
with his back to me and my arms crossed over his chest. Placing his hands
over mine, he wriggled himself closer and sighed happily.

It was midnight before either of us moved, and then only because it was my
turn to visit the bathroom. Reluctantly Miles rolled over to let me up,
yawning as he did so.

"Ready for bed, yet?" I asked when I came back.

"Yeah, I supposed so," he said lazily.

I looked at him quizzically – I'd never know him refuse an offer like
that before.

Grinning, he replied, "If we go to bed, then the next thing we know it'll
be morning and the week-end will be half over. I want it to go on for
ever!"

I empathised with him completely, but I was also bushed and despite the
attractions his almost naked body presented, I wanted my bed.

"OK," I said. "Make sure you turn the TV and lights off before you come
through."

He lasted all of three minutes. Almost before I'd climbed into bed he
followed me in the room and watched as I made myself comfortable. Without a
word, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he lifted the
covers and slid in alongside me.

"Goodnight," he said and turned his back on me.

I was stunned for a moment or two, until reality kicked in and I stayed
where I was, waiting.

"Oh, fuck it!" he giggled, rolled over to face me and scooted up as close
as he could.

He kissed me lightly on the lips and lay his head on the pillow, leaving
his arms round my neck. His eyes stayed open though and he simply looked at
me. Down below under the covers I felt him push his groin into mine,
gently, with hardly any pressure at all. We kissed each other again,
running fingers through our hair and taking the simplest of pleasures in
each other's company. Very slowly, almost imperceptibly I felt his dick
hardening, separated from mine only by the pants we were still wearing. The
more we kissed, the harder they got. For some reason Miles was playing a
game, trying his best to ignore the perfectly natural event taking place
between our legs.

"Bollocks!" he eventually burst out, laughing.

Letting go of me for a few seconds, he reached down and slid first his and
then my, pants off and threw them on the floor.

"Why is it that I always get a hard on when I'm in bed with you?" he
stammered out.

"Because you're a teenager and because you're randy!" I laughed. "Leaver it
alone and it'll go away."

"Never in a million years," he giggled. "I don't want it to anyway. Feels
nice."

As if to emphasise the point, he began to pull on his dick, but quickly
shifted his hand across to mine and let his fingers run up and down it.

"Will you love me?" he whispered quietly.

"I already do," I whispered back.

"I didn't mean that. I meant would you make love to me properly?"

There were a thousand reasons why I shouldn't, and a thousand reasons why I
should. I struggled with the problem for a few seconds, trying to think of
a good reason why I should say no.

"There's nothing more I'd like to do," I said quietly. "But I'm not sure
you're ready for it yet. It's a big step for us both and I'm not sure about
it at all. In any case, we haven't got any lube."

"Oh, yes we have," Miles sniggered.

He leaned over and ferreted about in the bedside cabinet, eventually
pulling out a tube of KY.

"If you think I went to all the trouble of buying this for nothing, then
you've got another think coming," he laughed. "If only you knew how
embarrassed I was asking for it. I'm not going through that again for
anybody!"

"When did you get that?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"When we were at the supermarket, you know, when I got the other stuff."

"Didn't they ask you why you wanted it?" I grinned.

"She asked me if I was sure KY was what I wanted and so I said that's what
my dad told me to get him. I think she was even more embarrassed than me
then!"

I took the tube from him and opened it, squeezing a tiny bit onto my
fingers and rubbing it between them thoughtfully. Miles did the same, but
examined it carefully before experimentally trying it out.

"Amazing!" he said quietly to himself. "Wonder what's in it? It's really
slippery."

Once he'd had enough experimenting, I took the tube from him and lay it on
the cabinet. Pulling him to me, I embraced and kissed him, feeling for his
tongue. I knew instantly that Miles was extremely aroused: he returned the
kiss with an almost feral passion, his arms and legs wrapping themselves
round me as tightly as he could, his chest pressed against me hard enough
to make breathing a problem.

We carried on like this until I felt he was ready. Using my already
slickened finger, I eased it between his cheeks and pressed the tip against
his ring softly. It only took a couple of attempts before it opened up for
me and I slid in, far more easily than I expected to.

I felt as much as heard him groan in ecstasy as I worked my way deeper in,
adding another finger as I did so. Before long he was matching his rythym
with mine as I worked back and forth, opening him up as much as I could. He
was writhing with sheer lust by now, his mind a complete mess. Deciding the
time was right, I grabbed the KY and using one hand covered my dripping
cock as best I could.

Taking my fingers out of his butt, I told him to lay on his back and lift
his legs up in the air. Carefully I smeared the jelly all round his rosebud
and as far inside as I could reach easily.

Kneeling between his legs, I looked at him carefully, checking that he
really wanted me to carry on.

I got a slight nod as he looked me straight in the eyes. "Please?" he
mouthed.

I touched my cock against the hole. Firstly it clamped down tight, but as
if at some signal, it relaxed and opened up just a little. As gently as I
could, I eased forward and increased the pressure. Nothing. I pressed
harder, still nothing.

"Please! Please! Please!" I heard Miles mutter to himself between clenched
teeth.

Suddenly, I was in. Miles yelped at the shock and stared at me, wide-eyed
and in obvious pain.

"Want me to stop?" I whispered.

He shook his head 'no' .

I gave him a couple of minutes to get used to me and then eased down,
slowly and carefully, not stopping until I was in as far as I could go.

"You OK?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah!" he sighed, unclenching his fists and opening his eyes. "Just do it
slow."

With infinite care I pulled in and out, using almost the entire length of
my cock until I discovered exactly where his magic spot was. Then I went
even slower, concentrating on just that one place. By now, Miles was well
and truly spaced out. Not only was his head thrashing about like a thing
demented, but his hands were everywhere: first rubbing up and down my back,
then round my butt, then round his throbbing cock, then back to my ...

Suddenly his body froze and he orgasmed painfully and massively, his cum
shooting over his head, ending up God knows where.

I began to pull out, but was soon stopped by Miles. "No, not yet. Keep
going!"

I started again, but this time using my full length as slowly as I
could. Not for long though: there was no way could I stop myself. With
ever-increasing force I bucked backwards and forwards until with one final
lunge, I dropped my load deep inside him, passionately and painfully.

Once my dick had wilted enough, I rolled off him and lay back, breathing
heavily and sweating like a pig. Miles was still totalled, his eyes glazed
and mouth wide open. I hugged him to me and kissed him on the forehead,
waiting until he came down to Earth.

"Fuck me!" he said at last, his eyes shining. "We did it!"

"How was it?" I asked, still concerned for him.

"Hurt at first. Hurt like fuck, but then it got better and better. I ain't
ever cum like that before. You made me cum at least twice," he
sniggered. "Bet my balls are really empty now!"

"You're OK then?" I laughed, as much with relief as anything else.

"Oh yeah. Brilliant!" he sighed. "We gotta do it again!"

"When? Now?" I giggled.

"Naah, not just yet. Give me a few minutes though!"

Ten minutes later he was fast asleep, curled up in front of me and still
with that ever-lasting smile on his face.

* * * * *

He was still in the same position the following morning when I woke up. In
my early morning fugue between dreams and reality, I wasn't at all sure
whether or not I'd dreamed the whole event, but the sight of the KY tube on
the cabinet convinced me that it had actually happened. I looked at the
sleeping form beside me and stroked his hair lovingly, not for the first
time being overcome by his beauty and remarkable personality. I was sorely
tempted to wake him just so we could talk and share our bodies again, but
reluctantly I decided that he needed the sleep and I needed a shower, the
exertions of the previous night leaving their unmistakeable odour.

I was sat having my first coffee of the day and still mulling over the
previous night when Miles came into the kitchen and made himself a drink. I
glanced at him and got an early morning 'I'm not awake yet' look back. He
was wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy briefs which left absolutely
nothing to the imagination.

"Mornin'" I mumbled.

"Yeah!" he agreed.

"You OK?" I asked, the obvious uppermost in my mind.

"Bum's a bit sore, but I'm OK." he replied, squirming a little as he sat
opposite me.

I was about to say something, but he stopped me.

"Don't spoil it," he said, staring into his cup. "I'm glad we did it, so
don't go getting all guilty on me."

I nodded back.

"And I wanna do it again. But not just yet though!" he giggled

This time he came across and sat on my knee, resting his head on my
shoulder.

"I'm OK, really," he whispered. "It was good."

We kissed lightly and hugged for a couple of minutes.

"Come on," I said a little reluctantly, "We gotta move."

"Why?" he mumbled.

" 'Cause if you don't, I'm gonna wet myself."

Once we'd got washed and dressed, Miles asked if we had any plans for the
day. I explained that usually I spent Saturdays cleaning and tidying the
flat and just lazing around.

"Sounds good to me," he said. "What do you want me to do?"

"You get the kitchen and bathroom," I said, "And I'll do the living room
and bedrooms."

My place isn't all that big, but it still took a fair amount of work to
tidy it up. Usually it would take me most of the morning to do it, but with
Miles help it was more or less finished in an hour or so.

"There's only one more thing to do," I said as we looked around a (fairly)
sparkling flat.

"Washing. Throw everything you've got that needs washing in the basket and
we'll get the machine going."

As Miles was gathering his bits and pieces together, not that there was
very much anyway, I stripped our bed and threw the sheets out. To my
surprise, he added the unused ones from 'his' bed, which hadn't been used.

"If 'she' comes round, she'll expect to see two sets of bedding, not one,"
he smiled.

That hadn't occurred to me and I mouthed a grateful 'thanks' at him, pulled
out a new set and threw them over to him.

I disliked shopping on Saturdays and so Miles and I decided that we'd drive
out to the countryside and have pub meal somewhere for a change. There were
only a few essentials I had to buy and I could get those almost anywhere I
decided.

Within the hour we were sat in the garden of a picturesque village pub I
knew, waiting for our meal and having a couple of drinks: beer for me and
shandy for Miles. The place was fairly full as usual and I glanced round
idly. Most of the customers were families I noticed, their kids either in
the play area or feeding the ducks in the pond. 'Just like Miles and me' I
thought with a start. Our meal arrived as I was contemplating this and we
set to with a will, both of us hungrier than we thought. We ate in silence
until the plates were cleared and I asked if Miles wanted another drink.

"No, thanks," he replied. "You have one though, I'm gonna feed the birds."

I nursed my pint and watched Miles sat on the bank casually throwing bread
into the water. From his posture I could tell he was deep in thought, but
of what I had no idea. I guessed that he was thinking about him and me, and
what had happened in the past 24 hours. It was hard enough for me to come
to terms with, let alone a lad of his age. I needn't have worried though as
he turned round, flashed me a smile and went back to feeding the ducks.

Being such a nice day, we look the long way home, exploring the country
lanes to our heart's content and enjoying the fresh air. I don't suppose we
exchanged more than a dozen words all the way home, just the occasional
contented glance at each other once in a while.

It was a pity that we had to go home eventually, and although we'd
stretched the time out as much as we could, we had to make our way – it
was getting dark anyway.

Once we'd closed the front door behind us, Miles quickly kicked off his
shoes and turned the TV on.

"Leave the lights off," he asked as I made for the switch. "Let's just sit
in the dark."

"Had a good day?" I asked as I sat down alongside him.

"Brilliant! It's been ages since I been on a country drive. Not since I was
a kid. Thanks."

" 's OK," I said. "I enjoyed it too."

We gave each other a quick kiss and settled down to watch the film on
TV. Before long Miles had drifted off to sleep, his head in my lap. I too
was tired, but managed to stay awake until the film finished. The sound of
the end credits stirred Miles and he opened his eyes blearily.

"I'm buggered!" he managed to say. "Would you mind if I slept in the spare
bed tonight?"

"Good idea," I told him. "It hasn't been used yet, and it is your room sort
of anyway."

"OK. Thanks. Goodnight."

I was glad Miles had elected to sleep by himself for once. If nothing else
it would make him feel more at home if that were possible, and in any case
I didn't think it was a good idea for us to share a bed every time he slept
over – it wouldn't do either of us any good.

About two am, I was woken from a deep sleep by Miles climbing in alongside
me.

"Couldn't sleep," he whispered as he cuddled up to me.

I half-expected him to start something, but he simply pecked me on the lips
and closed his eyes.

It was my turn now to find it hard to sleep, but I must've done as the next
thing I knew was that the sun streaming in through the window woke me up at
seven o'clock. Miles was already awake and laying on his side, arm across
my chest.

"Morning!" he smiled chirpily.

"Morning angel!" I grinned back. "How long you been awake?"

"Not long. 'Bout half an hour."

"Mmmmmm," I sighed and closed my eyes.

Any thoughts I had of grabbing an extra few minutes were quickly vanquished
when I felt a hand snaking into my underpants.

"You got a boner!" he sniggered.

Without opening my eyes, I felt around until I found what I wanted. "So've
you," I muttered. "And you're not wearing any pants."

That earned me a giggle and a whispered, "So? What you gonna do about it?"

The slowly moving hand on my dick left me in little doubt what he had in
mind. Still not fully awake, I slid my undies off and turned to face him,
our cocks meeting head on. That brought me fully awake and I opened my eyes
to find myself staring directly into his.

"That's better!" he said, far more cheerfully than he had a right to this
time in the morning.

He rolled over on top of me and pressed his lips against mine, his tongue
searching for mine. I was left in no doubt as to how he was feeling as he
started to thrust himself against me and emitting low moans of
satisfaction.

"Alec?" he said, breaking our kiss.

"Mmm?"

"Where's the KY?"

That brought me to my senses instantly and I looked at him questioningly.

"Come on," he repeated. "Where is it?"

"Cabinet," I stuttered.

Scrambling across the bed, Miles reached for the tube and whipped the cap
off. Taking a large fingerful, he smothered my solidly hard dick first and
then reached round and did the same to his rear-end.

"Don't move," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders and holding me
down.

With a mixture of determination and lust, Miles straddled my torso and
knelt up. Gritting his teeth and looking up at the ceiling, he held my cock
in place and slowly lowered himself. To my utter astonishment, there was
only the slightest resistance as my dick first touched his hole and then
slipped in as far as the head. Sighing with pleasure, Miles gently slid
down my pole until I was embedded as far as I could go. For a couple of
seconds Miles stayed where he was, unmoving. I watched as a slow smile
spread across his face and all traces of pain vanished. He took hold of my
wrists and stared down at me as he gradually began to work himself up and
down, wriggling his hips until even the slightest movement stimulated his
prostate.

I contributed what little I could to the steady rhythm he dropped in to and
watched his face keenly.  Miles cursed very rarely, and even then mostly in
jest, but every move he made was accompanied by an oath of sheer ecstasy,
and a tightening of the grip he had on my wrists.

"Oh shit!" he squealed as a jet of jism flew from his cock and shuddering
body. Didn't stop him though as he carried on after only a moments
hesitation.

"Christ!" he yelled out as his second orgasm struck and his cock tried to
spit out stuff that wasn't there. I too climaxed and thrust myself up into
him as hard as I could, my balls almost climbing inside me with the effort.

Slowly he ground to a stop and rolled off me, his sweat-glistened body
heaving with spent passion.  I needn't have worried about him though as one
look at his self-satisfied smile and shining eyes told me exactly how he
felt.

"That was almost scary!" he said once he'd recovered. "I nearly fainted
when I came. Jesus!"

"You OK now?" I asked, concerned for him. "You frightened me a bit."

"I'm fine. It all happened so quick it took me by surprise, but it's much
better doing it that way than the other."

Despite having cum twice in the space of a couple of minutes, he was still
on a super-high, excitement giving his skin a rosy-red tinge from his head
to his chest. He kissed me playfully and whispered, "We gotta do it that
way all the time in future!"

I wasn't at all sure that I could cope too often with this over-exuberant
young man in his present mood, but what the hell, it would sure be worth a
try! We laughed and joked for a while until he'd calmed down enough to hold
a proper conversation.

"What time have you got to be home?" I asked, stroking his soft cheeks.

" 'Bout lunch-time I think. I'd better go home for dinner otherwise mum and
dad will get pissed off with me. I wish I didn't have to go."

"Me too, but you know the rules. We don't want to give 'em any wrong ideas,
do we?" I half-joked. "Talking of which, don't forget to take a shower,
will you?"

Miles pulled a face at this and laughed, "I seem to have spent the last two
days in bed or in the shower!"

We lazed around in bed for as long as we dared, but at last decided that it
was time we parted, albeit reluctantly.

I offered him a lift home, but he declined the offer for once, saying that
he needed the walk. We did however chat for a while longer, fixing some
rough sort of plans for when he could come and visit next without causing
any problems. As we hugged goodbye at the door, I suddenly remembered a
small gift I'd got him over the week-end. Reaching into my pocket, I
presented him with his own front door key. He looked at it thoughtfully for
a moment or two, realised it's significance, then reached up to kiss me
softly before he turned and headed homewards.

Chapter 11

Miles came to visit every day from then onwards, sometimes only for half an
hour, other times for longer: it was as if the day wasn't complete without
our meeting if only to check that we were OK. It was soon accepted by his
parents that he would also be at my place from Fridays until Sundays which
they appeared to accept without any problem. In fact, once they'd got used
to the routine, Sheila even stopped checking the flat out every time she
visited. It might have helped when she saw Miles had decorated 'his' room
with a few posters and pictures, deposited a few CDs in the room and
generally made it his own. Not that he used it a great deal of course, but
it was good knowing it was there.

At my insistence, I also tried to make sure that Miles didn't miss out on
his social life. He would have quite happily spent all his free time at my
place or at home, but for his own benefit he had to have friends of his own
age. Once in a while he would bring them round to visit us, or one or other
would call on him. There didn't seem anyone in particular he was friendly
with but he seemed popular enough and I was content with that.

For some reason I was thinking about this sort of thing when I suddenly
remembered his one-time best friend Michael: he hadn't been mentioned in
quite a while. When I asked about him, Miles said that they were still
friends, but with one thing and another, they hadn't seen each other for
ages.

"He's been round my house a couple of times," he said, "But I've never been
there."

"Why don't you bring him round here?" I asked.

"Dunno," Miles said. "Never really thought about it."

I looked at him questioningly: I doubted very much that this was true.

"He knows about us?" I asked.

"I haven't told him. Haven't told anyone." Miles said. "I've always been
here when he called, but mum and dad never told him where I was."

"You aught to invite him. You've been friends for years, it'd be a shame to
break up now. Don't you miss him?"

"Yeah, but I don 't know what he'd think if he knew ..."

"I don't want to state the obvious," I went on, "But if he doesn't wanna be
a mate after he knows, then ..."

"Yeah, yeah. You're right. He's gotta know sometime or other."

I thought little about it for a week or two, until, that is, Miles informed
me that Michael was gonna pay us a visit the following Saturday. After I'd
expressed my surprise and delight for him, he told me that he hadn't quite
found the courage to talk to him on the 'phone, but had sent him an email
telling him where he'd been all the time and asking if he wanted to come
here. Hence the visit.

* * * * *

"You going to make yourself scarce for a bit, yeah?" Miles said as we had
breakfast the morning he was due.

"Of course, if you want. I don't mind being thrown out of my own house."

Miles didn't even smile back – he was obviously very apprehensive.

"Not for too long though. I might need rescuing! Michael has quite a temper
if he's pissed off."

It was mid-morning when the strident tones of the door bell attracted our
attention. We looked at each other for a second before Miles asked me if I
would get it.

Michael had changed quite a lot since I'd last seen him. He'd got taller
and heavier of course, but he wasn't a child anymore. Like many teachers I
suppose, you remember the kids you taught at the age you knew them, not as
they are now. We recognised each other though and it was a slightly nervous
young man who stretched out a hand.

"Hello, Sir. Nice to meet you again. Is Miles here?"

"Yes, of course. Come in. It's nice to see you again, you keeping well?"

"Yes, thanks."

I led him through to the living room where Miles was stood waiting.

"Hiya!" he said, looking at him "Good to see you, mate."

"Me too," Michael replied flatly.

There was a nervous tension in the air and I assumed I was part of it, so
doing as I'd promised I made myself scarce, letting them know that I'd be
back in about an hour.

I'd bought some pizzas and a few tins of lager for us on my walk-about, but
was surprised to find the flat empty when I got home. It took me a minute
of so to find the scrawled note on the dining table which said that they'd
gone swimming. As a sort of p.s., Miles had added that 'everything was
cool'.

Dumping the pizzas in the freezer, I opened a tin and turned the TV on.

Miles re-appeared, alone, in the middle of the afternoon. He was back to
his old, cheerful self thank goodness and plonked himself on my knees,
giving me a welcome kiss.

"Things OK, then?" I asked, relieved to see him so cheerful.

"Yeah. He's OK."

He went on to tell me that one of the reasons that Michael was upset with
him was because he thought they'd fallen out over Michael's unwillingness
to 'mess about' together as much as Miles wanted. "The thing was that he
thought I was deliberately avoiding him, especially when my mum wouldn't
tell him where I was."

"So he's OK now?" I checked.

"Yeah. Threw him a bit though when he knew I was spending most of the time
here. Especially night-times," Miles giggled.

"You didn't tell him!" I asked, surprised.

"No. He guessed it. Mind you, didn't take a lot of working out, what with
my dirty clothes in my room and the KY in your bedroom!"

"Oh shit!" I sighed. "Sorry about that, I forgot it was there!"

"Don't panic," he replied. "He's cool with that, just surprised you and me
were, well, doing that sort of stuff. He'd guessed I was gay anyway, it was
just that it was with you. After all, you were our teacher."

"And he isn't going to tell anyone else?" I asked, just a bit worried.

"Naah, don't think so. But I don't really care if he does, not any more. He
made me think about you and me, and if he worked it out, then others will
as well, so I guess we'd better get used to it."

I received this revelation with some shock. It was true of course: the
problem was that I'd ignored the likelihood. It was obvious that his
parents would find out, as they did, but the chances of anyone else
discovering our secret I'd totally blanked. Now I thought about it, I found
that I didn't care that much either. It would be better if they didn't,
naturally, but if they did, what the fuck.

Well, I suppose that was almost the final bridge that Miles and I had to
cross. Once we'd accepted the fact that we'd been 'outed', at least
partially anyway, we became even closer if that were possible. Being seen
out and about in town together was no longer a problem and both our social
lives improved as a consequence. Life was good, and getting better.

The only thing left to do now was to tell Sheila and John that Miles
intended to move in permanently this summer, after all he would be 16 by
then and no one could complain. As to how we would inform them, I had no
worries on that score: Miles would no doubt get his own way somehow or
other, if only by flashing his winning smile.

The End