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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. But then, if I had the good 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he could really charge more, especially if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced the number of guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish 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 spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd marvel how many people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, just a lady, and understanding that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it. I had a skill 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 whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back 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 more secure that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting 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 woman next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I could talk with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real father and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child but as his partner. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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