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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. However 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he could in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be shocked how lots of men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport 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 considering that I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, simply a girl, and understanding that I actually 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 things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty initially, however that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men liked me for a little bit, although some 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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