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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common 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 ridiculous things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he might actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be surprised how many guys wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of money to invest and it was the tips that truly flushed my checking account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, but that had actually gone away when I realized I wasn't harming anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and cope 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 truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most 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 girl next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and envision the male who was making love to me truly was my dad. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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