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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he might in fact charge more, particularly if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of guys I 'd made love with. I didn't would like 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 spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel how many guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these people for an hour or more. I needed to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me desired 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 talent for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, however that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men enjoyed 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. They were in love with who I pretended to be for that brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who loved me wouldn't injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many 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 could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine father and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child however as his better half. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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