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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not 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 silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time though.
I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, since I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could actually charge more, especially if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared somebody would see me getting into a odd automobile, a different weird vehicle whenever, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how numerous people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap 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 needed to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, 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 skill for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty initially, but that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't injuring anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and live 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 because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most 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 think of the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might talk with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was set 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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