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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. But then, if I had the good 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 had not been a little lady in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he could really charge more, specifically if the man 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.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd misplaced how many people I 'd made love with. I didn't wish to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd marvel how many guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. 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 things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, however that had actually gone away when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and cope 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 method. Like a man who loved me would not harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 perhaps.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I could speak with him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine papa and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his spouse. We 'd done whatever but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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