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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have 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 woman in a long time.
I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyhow, given that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he could actually charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always afraid someone would see me getting into a odd car, a various weird car each time, and wonder what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be surprised how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the ideas that truly flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased 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 inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine 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 actually guilty initially, but that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and live 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 lonely because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a person who loved me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 girl next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and unique and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. However I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child however as his other half. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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