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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the money, primarily because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. Then, if I had the typical 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 ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, considering that I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always afraid somebody would see me entering a unusual vehicle, a different weird cars and truck each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how numerous guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising 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. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, simply a girl, and understanding that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had actually disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least 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 lonesome since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who loved me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people 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 child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and envision the male who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it.
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