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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I would not 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could really charge more, specifically if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of people I 'd had sex with. I didn't want to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Selecting me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd be surprised how many people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require 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 men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
The males liked me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 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, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who enjoyed me would not harm me, you know? I loved my daddy. That had changed too and I do not understand if something involved the other exactly, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, the majority of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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