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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. But then, if I had the good sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, considering that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me entering into a strange cars and truck, a different strange car each time, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd marvel how many men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a lady, simply a woman, and knowing that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, however that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't harming anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry 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 because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? 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 desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I could speak with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his spouse. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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