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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, primarily due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months currently, and I 'd lost track of 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 great deal of cash too. Method 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 extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised the number of people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't harming anybody. The men liked me for a little bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and cope 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 lonesome because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting 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 think of the male who was making love to me really was my daddy. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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