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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. 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 hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he might really charge more, especially if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how numerous men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the suggestions that really flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics 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 in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl 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 comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had actually gone away when I understood I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return 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 lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine papa and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his child however as his partner. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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