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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do. I had not been a little lady in a long time. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.

I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced the number of people I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method excessive 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. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be surprised how many guys wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. However that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a female, just a girl, and understanding that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, 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 tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I realized I wasn't harming anybody. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least 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 knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who loved me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I loved my daddy. That had actually changed too and I don't understand if one thing had to do with the other precisely, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring 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 possibly. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which troubled me initially, however then it didn't and I began liking it.

I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and special and loved. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his other half. 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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