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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not 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 ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he could really charge more, specifically if the person 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 truly like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be shocked how numerous guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to suck 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 primarily. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, 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. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty initially, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry 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 because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't injure me, you know? I was in love with my papa. That had actually changed too and I do not know if something had to do with 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the male who was making love to me really was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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