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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. But 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 lady in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be shocked how lots of guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty initially, but that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't harming anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and live 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 lonely due to the fact that I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you know? 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 girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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