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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the typical 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he might actually charge more, especially if the man 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 truly like it.
Way 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 ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how numerous guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated 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 stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I needed to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, simply a woman, 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 skill for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, however that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and cope 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 due to the fact that I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting 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 perhaps.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I could talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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