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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he could really charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd be shocked how lots of people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine 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 initially, however that had gone away when I understood I wasn't harming anybody. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them liked 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 lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me really was my daddy. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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