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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that 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 been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he could in fact 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 truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months already, and I 'd misplaced how many people I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a female, simply a girl, 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 skill for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, but that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal with them. 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 because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who enjoyed me would not injure me, you understand? I was in love with my father. That had changed too and I don't understand if one thing pertained to the other specifically, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might speak with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real dad and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his daughter but 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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