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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 cash, mostly since 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 been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced the number of guys I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Method 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 2. Selecting me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd marvel how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe 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 tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, however that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't harming anybody. The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who loved me wouldn't hurt 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 child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might speak with him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine dad and practically 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 programmed into me, growing up not as his child but as his other half. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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