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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, primarily 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 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he could in fact 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 additional, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be shocked how numerous men desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the tips that actually flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics 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 since I had to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady maybe 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 been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and live with them. However they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who liked me would not injure me, you know? 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 various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might speak to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child but as his partner. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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