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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, primarily due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't 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 silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, 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 additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how numerous people desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to really like these people for an hour or more. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, just a woman, and understanding that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty initially, but that had actually gone away when I understood I wasn't harming anybody. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and deal 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 knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? 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 wanted 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 think of the guy who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and unique and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it.
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