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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have actually 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 hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he could really charge more, especially if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
Way 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 believed was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised how numerous men wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to in fact like these men for an hour or more. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a female, simply a lady, and knowing that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal 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 because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who loved me would not injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people 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 envision the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it.
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