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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. However then, if I had the sound judgment 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 ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing since he could actually charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months already, and I 'd misplaced how many guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd marvel the number of men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, 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. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, however that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although a few of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal with them. However they loved 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 more secure that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and imagine the male who was making love to me actually was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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