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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, primarily 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 been an escort either. I would have been simply 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 woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might in fact charge more, especially if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
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 outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how many guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a great deal of cash to spend and it was the ideas that really flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require 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. However that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or more. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, just a lady, and knowing that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty initially, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although a few of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and live 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 understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might speak with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and liked. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine father and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child however as his partner. 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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