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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. But then, if I had the sound judgment I wouldn't 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 long time.
I just worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, considering that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he could actually charge more, particularly if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it. I was always scared someone would see me entering a strange car, a various strange car each time, and wonder what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method excessive for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd marvel the number of people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the suggestions that really flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing 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 tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, just a lady, and knowing that I actually 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 talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I was in love with my father. That had actually altered too and I don't know if one thing had to do with the other precisely, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, the majority of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe. However a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which bothered me initially, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could speak with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine dad and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his partner. We 'd done whatever but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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