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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not 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 lady in a long time though.
I just worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, because I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he could in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering a odd car, a different odd cars and truck whenever, and question what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, 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 many men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my father'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 guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to actually like these men for an hour or two. I needed to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a female, 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 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 really guilty in the beginning, however that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal 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 understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly 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 daddy. That had actually changed too and I do not know if one thing involved 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 desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps. However a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me in the beginning, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine daddy and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child but as his better half. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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