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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he could in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Method excessive for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be surprised the number of people wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a female, just a lady, and knowing that I really 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 stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, but that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and cope with them. However 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 lonesome since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't hurt 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 desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might speak to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and developed and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. However 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 other half. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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