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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. 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. However 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he might in fact charge more, especially if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd be surprised how many guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman possibly 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 whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty initially, but that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't harming anyone. The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and cope with them. However they were in love with who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and picture the guy who was making love to me actually was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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