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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. 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. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he might actually charge more, particularly if the guy 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 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 extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how lots of guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a great deal of cash to invest and it was the pointers that really flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased 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. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
The males liked me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who liked me wouldn't injure me, you know? I loved my father. That had changed too and I do not know if something pertained to the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly. However a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me in the beginning, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and think of the male who was making love to me really was my dad. I might talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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