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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. However then, if I had the sound judgment I wouldn't 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 ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he could in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, 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 additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be shocked how numerous guys desired 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 primarily. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 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 more secure that way. Like a person who loved me would not injure me, you know? I was in love with my dad. That had actually altered too and I do not know if something had to do with the other exactly, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which troubled me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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