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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't 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 hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, given that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he could actually charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was always scared someone would see me getting into a odd automobile, a different odd car each time, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months currently, and I 'd misplaced how many people I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how many people desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the tips that actually flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like condoms 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. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't hurting anybody. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed 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 lonesome because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who enjoyed me would not harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many 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 girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. And someplace, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. However I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child however as his better half. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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