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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he might in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd misplaced how many guys I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Method 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 two. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised the number of guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
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, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and deal 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 since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I might speak with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and loved. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child however as his wife. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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