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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 money, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. 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 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 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, because I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good idea since he could actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly afraid somebody would see me entering a strange car, a various weird vehicle each time, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't would like to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Way excessive 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 deserved an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised the number of men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me desired a lady, just a lady, and understanding that I really 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 stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had gone away when I recognized I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although a few of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and cope 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 understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could speak to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and loved. And someplace, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my real dad and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. But I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his wife. We 'd done whatever but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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