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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 cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. But then, if I had the sound judgment I wouldn't 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 silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he might in fact charge more, particularly if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually 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 extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be shocked how many guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these men for an hour or more. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a lady, just a lady, and understanding that I really was simply 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 whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't harming anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and cope with them. However they loved 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 understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who loved me would not 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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