Miles of Smiles
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.”
“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.
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