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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, primarily due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he could in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually 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 extra 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be surprised how numerous men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman 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 been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some 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. But they were in love with who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who liked me would not harm me, you understand? I loved my dad. That had actually changed too and I don't understand if one thing pertained to the other exactly, 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 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 bothered me at first, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and picture the male who was making love to me really was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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