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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. But then, if I had the common 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 hadn't been a little woman in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he could really charge more, particularly if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be stunned how lots of people wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the tips that truly flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, 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 prophylactics 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 because I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, however that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men liked me for a 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 live 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 because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't harm me, you know? 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 desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might talk with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine papa and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his other half. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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