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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have actually 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 long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he might actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method 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 2. Selecting me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised how many men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The guys liked me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 since I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who liked me would not injure me, you know? I was in love with my daddy. That had actually changed too and I don't understand if one thing had to do with the other specifically, however 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. 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 possibly. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and think of the male who was making love to me actually was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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