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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the money, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. However then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have actually 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 women do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months already, and I 'd misplaced how many people I 'd had sex with. I didn't want to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised the number of men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to really like these people for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful often too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, simply a lady, and knowing that I truly 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 talent for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The males 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 lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I could speak with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and developed and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. However I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child but as his partner. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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