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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. However then, if I had the sound judgment I would not 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 silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
I just worked three or four nights a week anyhow, because I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a advantage because he might in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always afraid somebody would see me entering into a weird vehicle, a various strange vehicle every time, and question what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised how lots of men desired precisely 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 daddy'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 tips that actually flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing 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 tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these men for an hour or more. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, just a lady, and understanding that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The males enjoyed 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 because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a person who loved me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I loved my father. That had actually changed too and I don't know if one thing pertained to the other precisely, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at first, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I might speak to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real father and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his other half. We 'd done whatever however skilled our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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