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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. However then, if I had the sound judgment I would not 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 ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised how many people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine 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 because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I loved my father. That had actually altered too and I do not understand if one thing had to do with the other exactly, but I don't 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 wished to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which bothered me initially, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it.
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