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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. But then, if I had the good sense I would not have actually 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 girls do. I had not been a little girl in a long period of time though. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good 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 opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.

I 'd been doing it for almost two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Picking me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore 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 mainly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't true. 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 knowing that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.

Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, however that had actually disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anybody. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and deal with them. 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 lonesome because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't harm 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.

I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real dad and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child but as his better half. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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