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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. However then, if I had the good 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 silly things that little ladies do. I had not been a little girl in a very long time though. I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, given that I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good idea because he might actually charge more, especially if the guy I was choosing picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering a weird car, a different odd vehicle each time, and wonder what was going on.

Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how many men desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more frequently 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 transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, just a woman, and knowing that I truly 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 talent for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.

Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, but that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't harming anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and live with them. However 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, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who loved me would not harm me, you know? I was in love with my daddy. That had changed too and I do not know if something had to do with the other precisely, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most 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 maybe. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.

I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I could speak to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. But I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his other half. We 'd done everything however skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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