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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he could really charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really 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 extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be stunned how lots of guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. However that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to actually like these people for an hour or more. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, simply a woman, and knowing that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The guys liked 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that method. Like a man who liked me would not harm me, you understand? I was in love with my daddy. That had actually changed too and I do not know if something related to the other specifically, but I don't 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. Some of them wished to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and picture the guy who was making love to me actually was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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