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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, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, because I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he might really charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it. I was always scared somebody would see me entering into a strange cars and truck, a various weird automobile each time, and wonder what was going on.
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 outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to draw 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 mostly. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The guys enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who liked me would not injure me, you know? I was in love with my dad. That had altered too and I don't know if something had to do with the other specifically, however I do not 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 wished to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps. 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 could close my eyes and envision the guy who was making love to me truly was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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