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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. But then, if I had the sound judgment I wouldn't have actually 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 had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, particularly if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be stunned how many people wanted 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 people too, like my father'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 transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I was in love with my father. That had changed too and I don't understand if something involved the other specifically, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe. However a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me initially, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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