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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a very long time though.
I just worked three or 4 nights a week anyhow, given that I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he could really charge more, especially if the person I was opting for picked me up at school. That benefit ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering into a unusual car, a various strange cars and truck each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way 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 shocked how many guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more often 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 stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really 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; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
The men loved 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a guy who loved me would not hurt me, you understand? I was in love with my dad. That had actually altered too and I do not know if something related to the other exactly, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at first, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I could talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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