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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. But then, if I had the good sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd had sex with. I didn't would like to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Selecting me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, however you 'd marvel the number of people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to actually like these people for an hour or two. I needed to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, simply a girl, and knowing that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, however that had gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anyone. The men liked me for a little bit, although a few of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and live with them. But they were in love with who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his wife. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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