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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have actually 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 women do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time though.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, because I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly afraid somebody would see me getting into a unusual automobile, a different odd cars and truck every time, and question what was going on.
Way 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 believed was ridiculous, but you 'd be stunned how lots of guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the tips that really flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap 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 real. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these men for an hour or more. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men spending for me desired a female, simply a girl, and knowing that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, however that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anybody. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and deal 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 lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who liked me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and developed and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real father and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his spouse. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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