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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, primarily due to the fact that 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 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 women do.
I had not been a little woman in a 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 thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, specifically if the guy I was choosing picked me up at school. That advantage ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid somebody would see me getting into a strange vehicle, a different odd cars and truck every time, and wonder what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be stunned how many people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The males enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I loved my father. That had actually altered too and I don't know if something had to do with the other specifically, 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. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child'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 bothered me at first, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and envision 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 special and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it.
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