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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the typical 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 women do.
I had not been a little lady in a long period of time though.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, given that I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he might actually charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering into a weird vehicle, a different strange vehicle every time, and wonder what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Selecting me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd marvel the number of guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the pointers that truly flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to actually like these people for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a lady, just a lady, and knowing that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it. I had a talent 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 whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, however that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and deal with them. They were in love with who I pretended to be for that brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who loved me would not harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various 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 truly was my dad. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his spouse. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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