Miles of Smiles
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 the 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.”
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.”
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