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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Way 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. Choosing me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, however you 'd be surprised how many men desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the ideas that actually flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased 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 since I had to in fact like these people for an hour or more. I needed to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a lady, just a woman, and understanding that I really was just 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 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 in the beginning, however that had actually gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal with them. However they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might speak with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real papa and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his better half. We 'd done whatever but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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