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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
I only worked three or four nights a week anyway, given that I had 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 because he could in fact charge more, particularly if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly scared somebody would see me entering a unusual cars and truck, a various odd car every time, and wonder 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 extra 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be stunned how lots of guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a female, simply a girl, and knowing that I actually was simply 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 things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men liked me for a little bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and deal with them. But they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not injure 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 child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could speak with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine father and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child but as his wife. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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