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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, specifically 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 really 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 believed was outrageous, but you 'd be stunned how lots of men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to fuck and suck . These were all older people 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 agent, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, however that had gone away when I recognized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return 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 lonely since I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I loved my dad. That had actually altered too and I don't know if something involved the other specifically, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at initially, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me really was my daddy. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and special and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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