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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of sound judgment. But then, if I had the good sense I wouldn't 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 ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he could in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Method 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 believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be shocked how lots of people wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a female, just a woman, and understanding that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real 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 actually guilty initially, however that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't injuring anyone. The men loved me for a little 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 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 lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who loved me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it.
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