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Felicity , 20 y
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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. However then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't 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 silly things that little women do. I had not been a little woman in a long time. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he could in fact charge more, particularly if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.

I 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't would like to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Choosing me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how many people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these men for an hour or 2. I needed to act younger often too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, simply a woman, and knowing that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.

The males loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 lonesome since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that method. Like a man who liked me would not harm me, you understand? I loved my daddy. That had actually altered too and I don't know if something involved the other exactly, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at initially, but then it didn't and I started liking it.

I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. But I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child but as his wife. We 'd done whatever but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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