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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of sound judgment. 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he could in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be stunned how many people wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to really like these men for an hour or 2. I needed to act more youthful often too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, simply a woman, and knowing that I really 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 talent for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had actually gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal 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 understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not harm 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me really was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it.
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