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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mostly 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 typical sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a very 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 selected me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of guys I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised the number of men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, just a lady, and knowing that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, but that had gone away when I recognized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal with them. But they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who liked me would not hurt me, you understand? I loved my father. That had actually altered too and I don't know if one thing pertained to the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which bothered me in the beginning, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I could talk with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine papa and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child but as his wife. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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