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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have actually 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 girls do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long period of time though.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, considering that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might really charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always afraid somebody would see me entering a odd vehicle, a different unusual vehicle each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd be stunned how lots of men desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my papa'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 purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, however that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed 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 live 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 actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not harm me, you know? I loved my papa. That had changed too and I do not know if one thing related to the other specifically, but 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 child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at initially, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I might talk with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real father and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his spouse. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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