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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 money, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. However then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't 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 ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he might actually charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
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 ludicrous, however you 'd be shocked how numerous people desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the tips that really flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics 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 men for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, however that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't harming anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and cope with them. 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 lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that method. Like a man who liked me would not 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 desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine papa and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his better half. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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