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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. But then, if I had the sound judgment I would not 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 ridiculous things that little girls do. I had not been a little lady in a long time though. I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a advantage due to the fact that he might really charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was always scared someone would see me entering a weird cars and truck, a different strange cars and truck each time, and question what was going on.

Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be stunned how many people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my daddy'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 representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.

Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, however that had gone away when I realized I wasn't harming anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return to their cities and live with them. However they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.

I might close my eyes and imagine the male who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.

 

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