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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the common 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 silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time though.
I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he might actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it. I was constantly afraid somebody would see me getting into a odd cars and truck, a various weird vehicle every time, and wonder what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Picking me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel how many people wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to really like these men for an hour or more. I needed to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, just a lady, and understanding that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much 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 in the beginning, but that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal with them. However 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 lonesome because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you know? 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 various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could talk with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine daddy and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. But I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child however as his better half. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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