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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, mainly 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 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he might really charge more, particularly if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity 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 spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised how many guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty initially, but that had actually gone away when I realized I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and live 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 because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it.
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