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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, primarily due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, however you 'd be surprised how lots of guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I needed to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, simply a girl, and understanding that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and cope with them. They were in love with who I pretended to be for that brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who liked me would not injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might speak with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and developed and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. But I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was set into me, maturing not as his child however as his partner. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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