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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense I would not 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 silly things that little women do. I had not been a little woman in a very long time though. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he could in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.

I 'd been doing it for almost two months currently, and I 'd misplaced how many guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Way too much 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. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised the number of people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the ideas that actually flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes 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 inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.

The males liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you know? I was in love with my daddy. That had altered too and I don't know if one thing pertained to the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at initially, but then it didn't and I began liking it.

I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I could talk with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine dad and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was set into me, growing up not as his child but as his other half. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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