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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he could actually charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be stunned how many men desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the pointers that truly flushed my checking account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for genuine 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 because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who loved me would not hurt me, you know? I was in love with my daddy. That had actually altered too and I don't understand if one thing related to the other specifically, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps. 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 could close my eyes and imagine the male who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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