When Challis Andrews emerged from detention at age seventeen, it was a condition of his parole that he reside with his "Aunt" Poppy and that he seek gainful employment or undertake vocational training.
Challis - or Charlie as he is generally called - was comfortable living with Poppy. She was one of the many aunts who had filled Charlie's early life with love and laughter. Now "retired" and living on welfare benefits, Poppy was proud to have a beautiful young man in her life. He was like the child she had never had and she was no less committed than Charlie to ensuring that he never ran foul of the law again.
By a stroke of good fortune, Charlie was apprenticed to a local motor mechanic - one of Poppy's contacts who was happy to give a kid a break. Charlie had a natural aptitude for engines and machinery and he performed very well both in the workshop and in his theory studies at technical college. Once he reached eighteen - his probationary period now ended - Charlie moved into a small apartment of his own. He and Poppy stayed in touch and she was supportive of his bid for independence.
After three years of diligence and application, Charlie graduated as a fully-fledged motor mechanic. During those three years, Charlie also built up a loyal fan-base of local ladies who brought their cars in for servicing or repair. At age twenty, his body had developed along classical male lines - he had broad shoulders and a smooth chest; his V-shaped torso tapered to a small waist and narrow hips; and beneath that lay his long, lean and athletic legs and an enormous cock with suitably large and low-hanging balls.
Women who caught sight of Charlie flat on his back beneath their vehicle could not help but grow moist at the sight of the bunching at his crotch. And, when he emerged and stood to greet them, the moistness would grow and become a flood. Charlie's overalls were always unbuttoned to the waist and, on warm days, his chest wore a sheen of perspiration that sparkled almost as brightly as his cornflower-blue eyes. And then, of course, there was his face - that breathtakingly handsome face. When Charlie's lips parted in a smile, his perfect white teeth were revealed, as were the dimples in his cheeks. To the average woman, rushing between work, home and the supermarket, Charlie was an exotic creature, a god in her arid suburban wasteland.
It was part of this young man's good fortune that he was not excessively vain about his appearance. Nor was he unaware of the impact his looks had on others. Over time, Charlie realised that his looks might prove a pass-key to something more lucrative and more interesting than servicing cars for a living. Left to his own devices, the lad might never have hit upon the next logical step in his career. Fortunately, one of the workshop's regular clientele - a professional woman in her thirties - summoned the courage one day to ask if he would accompany her to a special occasion. Having been assured that he would be provided with appropriate clothes, and having also been assured that he would receive some payment for his time, Charlie agreed.
Two weeks later, resplendent in hired formal wear, Charlie escorted the business lady to the Law Society's annual ball. She was aware that her escort lacked the verbal and mental skills to match it with any other man in the room, but she also knew that Charlie was polite and well-spoken and that every guy would envy him and attempt to keep a distance lest unflattering comparisons be made. Above all else, she knew that every other woman present would be lusting after her companion and that few of them would care if he could not speak or think at all. Not blessed with beauty or a good figure, the woman on Charlie's arm was envied for the first time in her life.
Later that night, as he was being dropped off at his apartment, Charlie was handed a significant sum of cash for his efforts. Moreover, he was promised even more cash for agreeing to stay in the vehicle and travel on to her home. Once there, Charlie's lack of expertise matched that of the woman but - if his technique lacked finesse - everything else about Charlie was ample and firm and quick to recover. This was easy money and the work was not so very different - servicing a woman had many similarities to servicing a car. All Charlie had to do was make someone purr by inserting a key and ensuring her parts were well lubricated. This he was good at.
As soon as he had an opportunity, Charlie consulted with Poppy. She quickly agreed that the boy had hit upon an excellent way of increasing his income, but they were both concerned that he do nothing that might bring him under police scrutiny.
"I promised your mother I'd look out for you" said Poppy. "And you promised her you'd never do anything wrong again; that you'd never go to prison again."
"No" Charlie responded. "I told her I'd never do anything foolish again."
"Same thing."
"No, it's not. The foolish thing is to get caught! I made that promise because I never wanted her to have to visit me in prison again. I didn't want to put her through all that shame twice."
Poppy gave an explosive snort of laughter and blew out a stream of cigarette smoke.
"Love, your mother was like the rest of us. We've all spent time in the lock-up. Whores haven't always been tolerated like they are today. Your mother was never ashamed of you. She loved you. We all do - all the old girls - and none of us wants to see you inside again when you have such a great life ahead of you."
"Did Mum ever pay taxes?"
Another choking fit and more laughter. Charlie was assured that his mother had never declared any earnings and had never paid one cent of taxation in her entire life. Taxes, in Charlie's view, were the main issue for him.
He and Poppy swiftly agreed that it is no crime to receive payment for escorting women to dinners and other social events. They also agreed that it almost certainly is a crime to avoid paying tax on such earnings, but - to use Charlie's own words - there was a consensus that "it's only wrong if you're stupid enough to get caught".
So they went into business together, with the suddenly re-energised woman agreeing to be Charlie's "manager" in return for 15% of clear profits. Pooling their meagre savings, Poppy was equipped with a computer and a cell phone. She was the acknowledged expert at organising matters such as these and she soon arranged for some discreet advertisments to appear in the weeekend newspapers.
"You're always going to be at arm's length from this side of the business" Poppy said. "I know how many layers make an onion and I know how to make it almost impossible for anyone to follow you or the money trail. As far as any nosy-parkers are concerned, you'll be a mechanic who sometimes escorts ladies as a favour."
"No" Charlie responded. "I won't be a mechanic, Aunt Poppy. I'm packing that in. I'm twenty-one now and I figure I've got maybe ten years before I'm too old for this stuff. I want to make hay while the sun shines."
"You're a guy" Poppy said. "Another ten years? You're joking. Twenty is more like it, And with your looks and that huge cock of yours, they'll still be creaming their knickers for you when you're fifty or sixty!"
"No" said Charlie. "I want to get married in about ten years or so and have children. I'm not going to be a gigolo when I've got kids to raise. And I'm not going to screw around on my wife either."
"It's not screwing around. It's business."
"Let's see how we go" Charlie replied. "Maybe the whole thing will be a flop and I'll go back to being a mechanic."
But it wasn't. And he didn't.
Challis - or Charlie as he is generally called - was comfortable living with Poppy. She was one of the many aunts who had filled Charlie's early life with love and laughter. Now "retired" and living on welfare benefits, Poppy was proud to have a beautiful young man in her life. He was like the child she had never had and she was no less committed than Charlie to ensuring that he never ran foul of the law again.
By a stroke of good fortune, Charlie was apprenticed to a local motor mechanic - one of Poppy's contacts who was happy to give a kid a break. Charlie had a natural aptitude for engines and machinery and he performed very well both in the workshop and in his theory studies at technical college. Once he reached eighteen - his probationary period now ended - Charlie moved into a small apartment of his own. He and Poppy stayed in touch and she was supportive of his bid for independence.
After three years of diligence and application, Charlie graduated as a fully-fledged motor mechanic. During those three years, Charlie also built up a loyal fan-base of local ladies who brought their cars in for servicing or repair. At age twenty, his body had developed along classical male lines - he had broad shoulders and a smooth chest; his V-shaped torso tapered to a small waist and narrow hips; and beneath that lay his long, lean and athletic legs and an enormous cock with suitably large and low-hanging balls.
Women who caught sight of Charlie flat on his back beneath their vehicle could not help but grow moist at the sight of the bunching at his crotch. And, when he emerged and stood to greet them, the moistness would grow and become a flood. Charlie's overalls were always unbuttoned to the waist and, on warm days, his chest wore a sheen of perspiration that sparkled almost as brightly as his cornflower-blue eyes. And then, of course, there was his face - that breathtakingly handsome face. When Charlie's lips parted in a smile, his perfect white teeth were revealed, as were the dimples in his cheeks. To the average woman, rushing between work, home and the supermarket, Charlie was an exotic creature, a god in her arid suburban wasteland.
It was part of this young man's good fortune that he was not excessively vain about his appearance. Nor was he unaware of the impact his looks had on others. Over time, Charlie realised that his looks might prove a pass-key to something more lucrative and more interesting than servicing cars for a living. Left to his own devices, the lad might never have hit upon the next logical step in his career. Fortunately, one of the workshop's regular clientele - a professional woman in her thirties - summoned the courage one day to ask if he would accompany her to a special occasion. Having been assured that he would be provided with appropriate clothes, and having also been assured that he would receive some payment for his time, Charlie agreed.
Two weeks later, resplendent in hired formal wear, Charlie escorted the business lady to the Law Society's annual ball. She was aware that her escort lacked the verbal and mental skills to match it with any other man in the room, but she also knew that Charlie was polite and well-spoken and that every guy would envy him and attempt to keep a distance lest unflattering comparisons be made. Above all else, she knew that every other woman present would be lusting after her companion and that few of them would care if he could not speak or think at all. Not blessed with beauty or a good figure, the woman on Charlie's arm was envied for the first time in her life.
Later that night, as he was being dropped off at his apartment, Charlie was handed a significant sum of cash for his efforts. Moreover, he was promised even more cash for agreeing to stay in the vehicle and travel on to her home. Once there, Charlie's lack of expertise matched that of the woman but - if his technique lacked finesse - everything else about Charlie was ample and firm and quick to recover. This was easy money and the work was not so very different - servicing a woman had many similarities to servicing a car. All Charlie had to do was make someone purr by inserting a key and ensuring her parts were well lubricated. This he was good at.
As soon as he had an opportunity, Charlie consulted with Poppy. She quickly agreed that the boy had hit upon an excellent way of increasing his income, but they were both concerned that he do nothing that might bring him under police scrutiny.
"I promised your mother I'd look out for you" said Poppy. "And you promised her you'd never do anything wrong again; that you'd never go to prison again."
"No" Charlie responded. "I told her I'd never do anything foolish again."
"Same thing."
"No, it's not. The foolish thing is to get caught! I made that promise because I never wanted her to have to visit me in prison again. I didn't want to put her through all that shame twice."
Poppy gave an explosive snort of laughter and blew out a stream of cigarette smoke.
"Love, your mother was like the rest of us. We've all spent time in the lock-up. Whores haven't always been tolerated like they are today. Your mother was never ashamed of you. She loved you. We all do - all the old girls - and none of us wants to see you inside again when you have such a great life ahead of you."
"Did Mum ever pay taxes?"
Another choking fit and more laughter. Charlie was assured that his mother had never declared any earnings and had never paid one cent of taxation in her entire life. Taxes, in Charlie's view, were the main issue for him.
He and Poppy swiftly agreed that it is no crime to receive payment for escorting women to dinners and other social events. They also agreed that it almost certainly is a crime to avoid paying tax on such earnings, but - to use Charlie's own words - there was a consensus that "it's only wrong if you're stupid enough to get caught".
So they went into business together, with the suddenly re-energised woman agreeing to be Charlie's "manager" in return for 15% of clear profits. Pooling their meagre savings, Poppy was equipped with a computer and a cell phone. She was the acknowledged expert at organising matters such as these and she soon arranged for some discreet advertisments to appear in the weeekend newspapers.
"You're always going to be at arm's length from this side of the business" Poppy said. "I know how many layers make an onion and I know how to make it almost impossible for anyone to follow you or the money trail. As far as any nosy-parkers are concerned, you'll be a mechanic who sometimes escorts ladies as a favour."
"No" Charlie responded. "I won't be a mechanic, Aunt Poppy. I'm packing that in. I'm twenty-one now and I figure I've got maybe ten years before I'm too old for this stuff. I want to make hay while the sun shines."
"You're a guy" Poppy said. "Another ten years? You're joking. Twenty is more like it, And with your looks and that huge cock of yours, they'll still be creaming their knickers for you when you're fifty or sixty!"
"No" said Charlie. "I want to get married in about ten years or so and have children. I'm not going to be a gigolo when I've got kids to raise. And I'm not going to screw around on my wife either."
"It's not screwing around. It's business."
"Let's see how we go" Charlie replied. "Maybe the whole thing will be a flop and I'll go back to being a mechanic."
But it wasn't. And he didn't.