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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. However then, if I had the common sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little girl in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be shocked how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, 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. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the ideas that truly flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like condoms 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 given that I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine 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 short 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, mostly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a person who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I loved my dad. That had actually changed too and I do not know if one thing had to do with the other exactly, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting 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 perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at 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 truly was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it.
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