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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. But then, if I had the common sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a very long time though.
I just worked three or four nights a week anyway, considering that I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a advantage because he could actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always scared someone would see me getting into a unusual car, a various weird automobile each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be stunned how lots of men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the suggestions that truly flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing 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 tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. However that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to in fact like these men for an hour or more. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men spending for me desired a lady, simply a woman, and knowing that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who loved me would not harm me, you understand? I was in love with my dad. That had actually altered too and I do not understand if something had to do with the other specifically, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people 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 possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and developed and loved. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real father and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child but as his wife. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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