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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 due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been just 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 woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he could really charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be shocked how lots of guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these men for an hour or more. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, just a girl, and understanding that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine 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 lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who liked me would not harm me, you know? I loved my daddy. That had changed too and I don't know if something related to the other specifically, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman 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 actually was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it.
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