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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 money, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time though.
I just worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, considering that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he said that was a advantage due to the fact that he could actually charge more, particularly if the man I was choosing selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly scared someone would see me entering into a strange cars and truck, a various unusual cars and truck every time, and question what was going on.
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 outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many men desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. However that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to really like these guys for an hour or more. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me desired a lady, simply a girl, and knowing that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it. I had a talent 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 convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, but that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and live 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 since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that method. Like a man who enjoyed me would not harm me, you understand? 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 wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I could talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his spouse. We 'd done whatever however skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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