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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. 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 silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be stunned how lots of men wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't true. 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 lady perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, simply a woman, and understanding that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The males loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 really me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who loved me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most 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 woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and think of the male who was making love to me actually was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it.
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