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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 money, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. However then, if I had the sound judgment 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 girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could really charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually 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 believed was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how many people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to suck 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 mostly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady possibly 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 whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, but that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return 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 lonely due to the fact that I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you know? I loved my papa. That had altered too and I do not understand if something related to the other precisely, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, the majority of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps. However a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which bothered me at first, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and think of the guy who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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