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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have actually 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 girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he could in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't want to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd be surprised the number of men desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine 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 really guilty at first, but that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them loved me for real 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who loved me wouldn't hurt 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 desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and enjoyed. 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 had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child but as his other half. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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