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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. But then, if I had the good sense I wouldn't 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 ridiculous things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, 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 stated that was a good thing due to the fact that he could really charge more, especially if the guy I was opting for selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid somebody would see me getting into a odd cars and truck, a various unusual cars and truck whenever, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be shocked how numerous men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the suggestions that actually flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, however that had gone away when I recognized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and cope 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 because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who liked me would not hurt me, you know? 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 various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine dad and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his child but as his other half. We 'd done whatever but skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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