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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 cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of sound judgment. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he could in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with selected 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 stunned how many people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the pointers that actually flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms 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. However that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to in fact like these people for an hour or more. I needed to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, simply a woman, and knowing that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe 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 much better I got.
The guys 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 lonely since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who liked me would not harm me, you know? I loved my dad. That had changed too and I don't know if one thing involved the other precisely, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, the majority 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 girl next door maybe. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which 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 actually was my daddy. I might speak to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his spouse. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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