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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. But then, if I had the common 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 ridiculous 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 great thing since he might in fact charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised how lots of guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort 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 anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and cope with them. They were in love with who I pretended to be for that brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I was in love with my papa. That had changed too and I do not understand if something involved the other exactly, however 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter'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 first, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and think of the guy who was making love to me really was my papa. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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