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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. But 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, considering that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always scared somebody would see me entering into a strange car, a various unusual car each time, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd made love with. I didn't wish to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd marvel how many men desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't true. 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 sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men spending for me desired a lady, just a girl, and understanding that I really was simply 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 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 tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back 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 lonesome since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you know? I was in love with my father. That had changed too and I do not understand if one thing related to the other specifically, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe. But 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 envision the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could speak with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my real dad and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his partner. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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