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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mainly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not 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 lady in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he could in fact charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd be surprised the number of guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the suggestions that really flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms 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. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to actually like these men for an hour or two. I needed to act younger often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, just a girl, and understanding that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, however that had gone away when I recognized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least 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 lonely since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not harm me, you know? I was in love with my dad. That had actually changed too and I do not know if something related to the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, the majority of them desiring 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 perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at initially, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could speak to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine father and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his better half. We 'd done whatever but consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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