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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of sound judgment. But then, if I had the sound judgment 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 ridiculous things that little girls do. I hadn't been a little woman in a long time. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he might really charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.

I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way excessive 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. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be surprised the number of guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the suggestions that truly flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.

Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and deal 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 lonesome because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who liked me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them desiring 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 perhaps.

I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could talk with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and developed and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my real dad and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was set 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 needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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