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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. However then, if I had the good 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he could really charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit 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. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be shocked how many people wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never 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 convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least 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 understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys 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 lady next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I could talk with him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and loved. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child however as his wife. We 'd done everything however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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