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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought 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 guilt get in the way of sound judgment. But then, if I had the good sense I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, since I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he could really charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared somebody would see me entering into a strange car, a various strange vehicle each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd be shocked how numerous men desired 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 daddy'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 agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. However that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these men for an hour or 2. I needed to act younger often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a female, simply a girl, and understanding that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back 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 lonely because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't harm 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 wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might speak to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and liked. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my real dad and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his other half. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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