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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of sound judgment. Then, if I had the typical sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he might in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. However that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I needed to act younger often too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, just a woman, and knowing that I really was just 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 stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The males enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for genuine 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 lonely since I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that method. Like a man who liked me would not harm me, you know? I loved my daddy. That had actually changed too and I do not know if something involved the other exactly, however 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. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe. However a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me initially, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and think of the guy who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it.
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