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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the money, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of sound judgment. However then, if I had the good sense I wouldn't have actually 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 girls do.
I had not been a little lady in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might really charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of people I 'd made love with. I didn't would like to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way 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 two. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd marvel the number of men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and live with them. 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 because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that method. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I was in love with my daddy. That had changed too and I do not understand if one thing had to do with the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly. 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 could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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