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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense I would not 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 silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little lady in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be shocked how lots of men wanted exactly that. Like it proved 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 daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent 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 truly guilty at first, however that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and live 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 since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys 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 child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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