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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little lady in a long period of time though.
I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, given that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he might in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was opting for picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared somebody would see me entering a unusual cars and truck, a different strange car whenever, and wonder what was going on.
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 believed was ludicrous, however you 'd be stunned how lots of men desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
The males liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real 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 because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I was in love with my father. That had actually altered too and I don't understand if something related to the other precisely, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, the majority of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled 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 really was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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