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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. But then, if I had the good sense I would not 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 ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
I only worked three or four nights a week anyway, since I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was opting for picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared somebody would see me entering a unusual vehicle, a various unusual automobile whenever, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of people I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, 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 extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel how many guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut 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 mostly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, but that had actually disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and live 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 since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them desiring 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 might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I might speak with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child but as his spouse. We 'd done whatever but skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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