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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of sound judgment. Then, if I had the typical 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 ridiculous things that little women 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 could actually charge more, particularly if the person 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.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how numerous people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful 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 genuine talent for it.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I loved my daddy. That had changed too and I don't understand if one thing had to do with the other specifically, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman 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 think of the guy who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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