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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't 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 girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, specifically if the guy 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 truly 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 believed was absurd, but 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 whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, simply a woman, and understanding that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, but that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't harming anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and cope 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 lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I loved my dad. That had actually changed too and I don't know if one thing had to do with the other exactly, however 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 wished to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which bothered me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it.
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