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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he might really charge more, especially if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, 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 extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be stunned how many people desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. However that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to in fact like these guys for an hour or more. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men spending for me desired a lady, simply a woman, and knowing that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, however that had gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anyone. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal 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 lonely since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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