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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot 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 regret obstruct of sound judgment. But then, if I had the sound judgment 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 woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated 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 advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Method 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 thought was absurd, but you 'd be surprised how lots of guys wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, however that had actually disappeared 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 wed them, or a minimum of 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 lonely since I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who loved me would not hurt me, you know? I loved my daddy. That had changed too and I don't know if one thing pertained to the other precisely, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people 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 lady next door possibly. However a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me initially, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and picture the guy who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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