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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't 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 silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long period of time though.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, since I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good idea due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with selected 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 was constantly scared someone would see me getting into a unusual car, a different weird car every time, and wonder what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how numerous men desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty initially, however that had gone away when I realized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal 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 due to the fact that I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine dad and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his wife. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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