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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege 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 spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be stunned how many guys wanted precisely 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 guys too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of cash to invest and it was the suggestions that really flushed my savings account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes 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 inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.
The guys enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't injure me, you know? I loved my father. That had actually altered too and I do not understand if something involved the other specifically, however 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 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, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and think of the male who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it.
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