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It ends up 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. However then, if I had the good sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he might in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit 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 invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be stunned how numerous men desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of cash to invest and it was the pointers that really flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics 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. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real 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 short 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 much safer that method. Like a man who loved me would not injure me, you know? 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 wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I could talk with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine father and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his partner. 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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