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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I believed 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 obstruct of sound judgment. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little woman in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he could really charge more, specifically if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege 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 how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't would like to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash 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. Picking me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how many people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had actually gone away when I understood I wasn't hurting anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and cope with them. However 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 lonely due to the fact that I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly 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, 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 girl next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and liked. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. But I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child however as his partner. We 'd done whatever but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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