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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. But then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been just 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 very long time though. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he could actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.

I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash 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. Picking me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised the number of guys wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but 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 convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anybody. The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal 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 knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that method. Like a man who loved me would not injure me, you know? I was in love with my papa. That had altered too and I don't understand if one thing pertained to the other precisely, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty men or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a various name, their daughter'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 troubled me at first, however then it didn't and I started liking it.

I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I could speak to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real father and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his wife. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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