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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. But then, if I had the sound judgment I would not 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he could actually charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen 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 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd marvel how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the pointers that really flushed my savings account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
The men loved 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not harm me, you understand? I loved my dad. That had actually altered too and I do not know if one thing involved the other precisely, however I do not 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. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at first, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and unique and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his partner. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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