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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. But then, if I had the sound judgment I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd be shocked how lots of guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, however that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and cope 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 because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a person who loved me wouldn't harm me, you understand? 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 desired to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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