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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't 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 very long time though.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, considering that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he might really charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly afraid somebody would see me getting into a strange vehicle, a different strange automobile every time, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be surprised the number of people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The men 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you understand? I loved my father. That had changed too and I do not understand if one thing had to do with the other exactly, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which bothered me initially, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk with him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real father and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child but as his better half. We 'd done everything however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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