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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good 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 girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he might in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be shocked how lots of men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to actually like these guys for an hour or more. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, simply a girl, and knowing that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine 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 whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't hurting anybody. The men liked me for a little bit, although a few of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal 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 lonesome because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who loved me would not hurt me, you know? I was in love with my papa. That had changed too and I do not understand if one thing related to the other specifically, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it.
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