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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. But then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't 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 hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, 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 thought was ludicrous, but you 'd marvel the number of guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the tips that truly flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I needed to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, just a woman, and knowing that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyway, 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 convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty initially, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anybody. The men liked me for a little bit, although some 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 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 since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't injure 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 different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and special and loved. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his child but as his partner. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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