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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I would not 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 silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might really charge more, especially if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months already, and I 'd misplaced how many people I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method excessive for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Picking me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised the number of guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The males liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who liked me would not harm me, you know? I was in love with my daddy. That had actually altered too and I don't know if one thing involved the other exactly, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people 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 lady next door possibly. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled 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 dad. I might speak to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his partner. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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