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I entered my room and closed the door ever so quietly, the rush of deceit coursing through my veins. Celia, my stunning and sophisticated landlady, had strictly forbidden the use of the back stairs unless it was an emergency. But I had an urgent situation, one that I doubted she would approve of. Slowly, I tiptoed down the winding staircase, the squeak of a single wooden board giving me away. The parlor door stood as the final barrier between me and my secret escape, making me feel like a matchstick in treacherous seas, impossible to vanish without shame.

“Andrew, you’ve been avoiding me for days,” Celia’s voice called out.

“Fuck!” I muttered, caught off guard.

“Never mind, fuck. Get in here now,” she demanded.

“Sorry… did I say that aloud, Celia?” I stammered.

“Yes. You’re a naughty boy, Andrew,” she playfully scolded.

“I apologize for the late rent payment,” I quickly explained.

“Oh, I couldn’t care less about that. I’m cross because you’ve been avoiding me,” she admitted.

“Okay, well, I’m sorry about that too,” I replied, feeling a mix of relief and curiosity.

“Am I not approachable, or do you think I’m a cruel and unscrupulous boarding house landlady?” she asked, her voice softened.

“No, Celia, you’ve been nothing but kind to me since I moved to London for work,” I reassured her.

“Sit down and enjoy a breakfast before you rush through traffic to your office,” she invited.

“But I haven’t paid for it,” I protested.

“You will soon enough,” she insisted.

Taking a seat at the community dining table, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Celia’s stunning figure, her pencil skirt hugging her curves perfectly. The news streamed on the TV screen in her kitchen, but I was too preoccupied with my own desperate situation to pay attention. Celia had prepared a lavish breakfast from a local butcher, an indulgence I felt undeserving of.

“I don’t deserve this kindness, Celia,” I confessed.

“I have a good feeling about you, Andrew. If you behave well and make good choices, you’ll turn things around,” she said, her eyes studying me intently.

As I carved into the delicious sausage, my mind wandered, unable to shake the weight of my financial troubles. Celia interrupted my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

“I noticed you worked out a great deal until last week. Are you attending the gym?” she inquired.

“Not at the moment. I can’t pay my fees,” I admitted.

Without hesitation, Celia stood up, fetched her purse, and placed a platinum credit card on the table. Her generosity overwhelmed me.

“I can’t accept your generosity,” I protested.

“Can you be trusted with my card, Andrew?” she asked, her voice laced with trust.

“Of course. I’d never steal from anyone. Although technically, I am stealing right now by not paying the rent,” I replied, chuckling softly.

“That’s nuanced, and I haven’t chased your payment either. We’re in negotiation,” she said, her kindness shining through.

“Thank you, Celia. I’m grateful,” I expressed, grateful for her unexpected support.

“My PIN is 3769. Use it to pay for your gym fees and keep that physique looking damn fine. You can also buy yourself lunch while at work,” she instructed.

“Um, are you sure about this, Celia?” I questioned.

“I’m positive. You can spend up to fifty pounds each day, no questions asked,” she assured me.

“I could pay my rent with it,” I mused, feeling a glimmer of hope in my dire situation.

With the credit card in my hand, I boarded the tube train and keyed Celia’s details into my phone. I eagerly paid for a gym membership, excited for my first session in over a week. Energized by Celia’s support, I tackled my workday with renewed enthusiasm. However, as the afternoon wore on, I couldn’t shake the nagging thoughts of what repayment would entail.

Arriving at the gym, I was greeted by enthusiastic buddies, catching up on all things testosterone and high-fiving one another. The heavy free weights session was a welcome break from my recent mental torment, allowing me to focus solely on pushing my body to its limits. As I sweat profusely, breaking muscle fibers under extreme pressure, my self-doubts seemed to melt away.

After an invigorating shower, my mind was clear, and I returned home with a newfound positivity. The only lingering doubt was Celia’s plan for repayment. But surely, she wouldn’t actually want to sleep with me. A woman as gorgeous as her surely had plenty of options.

“Hello, Andrew. Come and sit with me,” Celia beckoned as I entered the dining room.

“Hi, Celia. I feel so much better this evening, thank you,” I greeted her, relieved to see her friendly face.

I slid her platinum card across the table, unsure of what she had in store for me. Celia glanced at the card and then at me, seemingly uninterested in both, and poured us each a cup of coffee.

“You didn’t eat lunch,” she observed.

“How do you know?” I asked, surprised.

“My banking app tells me everything I need to know,” she explained.

“I felt it would be taking advantage,” I admitted, feeling a mix of guilt and gratitude.

“I gave my consent,” she reassured me.

“I’m sorry, Celia,” I apologized once more.

“It’s fine. Would you do something for me? Strip naked,” she requested, her voice firm yet strangely enticing.

“What… why?” I questioned, caught off guard.

“You heard me, be a good boy and remove all of your clothes,” she commanded.

Reluctantly, I rose from my seat and began to undress, placing each garment neatly on a nearby chair. As I stood naked before her, my cock had already begun to swell with anticipation.

“I knew it,” Celia remarked, her eyes locked on to my aroused state.

“What did you know?” I asked, intrigued.

“That you’d be uncircumcised and no less than nine inches long, with the girth of a soda can,” she confessed, her words sending a shiver down my spine.

“Do I please you, Celia?” I dared to ask.

“Definitely. As a matter of fact, we can make lots of money together, you and I,” she revealed, her words both thrilling and terrifying.

Before I could fully process her intentions, Celia knelt down before me, her gaze fixed on my throbbing cock. She peeled back my heavily cream-laden foreskin, teasingly licking my pre-cum. The sight of her talented mouth enveloping my length was pure ecstasy, and I found myself putty in her hands.

When she finally pulled away, desire coursing through my veins, she revealed her plan for me.

“Your first client is waiting in the front room. She’s here for blowjob training. Your cock is too generous for her mouth to deep-throat, but she can learn through failure,” Celia explained.

“Blowjob training?” I stuttered, trying to comprehend the situation.

“Yes. She’s just turned eighteen, untouched, and her father wants her prepared for marriage,” Celia clarified.

“Marriage to her father?” I blurted out, incredulous.

“Don’t be silly. He’s paying for…”

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