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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought 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 regret 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 silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd made love with. I didn't would like to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method excessive for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd marvel the number of people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of cash to spend and it was the tips that actually flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need 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 because I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, simply a girl, 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 anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually 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, however that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some 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 since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting 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 woman next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I could speak to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and special and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine dad and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child however as his better half. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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