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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he might really charge more, especially if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd lost track of 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. Way 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. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how many people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
The men enjoyed 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 lonesome because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.
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