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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. However 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 had not been a little lady in a 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 advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Method 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, but you 'd be shocked how lots of guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the pointers that truly flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk 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 given that I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
The guys enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for genuine 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 truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who liked me would not hurt 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 desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and envision the male who was making love to me really was my papa. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it.
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