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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. But then, if I had the sound judgment I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he might in fact charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity 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 additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be shocked how many guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to actually like these people for an hour or more. I needed to act more youthful often too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, simply a lady, and knowing that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyhow, 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 convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and live with them. They were in love with who I pretended to be for that brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who loved me would not hurt me, you understand? 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 various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and envision the guy who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and unique and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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