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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the money, mainly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be surprised how lots of men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. However that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these men for an hour or more. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a female, just a woman, and knowing that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, however that had gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and deal 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 understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people 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 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 papa. I might speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. But I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his child but as his partner. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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