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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. However then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he might really charge more, especially if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
Method 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 ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised how many men desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the suggestions that actually flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to really like these men for an hour or more. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, simply a girl, and understanding that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had 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, but that had actually gone away when I realized I wasn't harming anybody. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and live with them. But 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 truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who loved me would not hurt me, you know? I loved my daddy. That had actually changed too and I do not know if something involved the other specifically, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty people 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 girl next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at initially, 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 might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine father and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his other half. We 'd done everything however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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