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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he could in fact charge more, particularly 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 really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be shocked how numerous guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
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 in the beginning, but that had gone away when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal 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 due to the fact that I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, 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 2 prior to. However I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child but as his better 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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