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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the man 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 spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd be shocked how many men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the ideas that actually flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk 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 considering that I had to really like these men 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 older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, however that had gone away when I realized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and live 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 lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and unique and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine daddy and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. 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 however as his better half. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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