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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he might really charge more, particularly if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly 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 thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be stunned how lots of guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to in fact like these people for an hour or more. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, just a lady, and knowing that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually 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 understood I wasn't harming anybody. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and cope 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 understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them desiring 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 girl next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and envision the male who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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