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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of sound judgment. However 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little lady in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he might really charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be shocked how many guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I needed to act younger often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, just a lady, and knowing that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill 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 been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, but that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and cope 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 since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who loved me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I might speak to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child however as his partner. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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