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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot 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 get in the way of sound judgment. However then, if I had the good sense 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 ridiculous things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he might really charge more, particularly 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.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be shocked how numerous men desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, just a girl, and understanding that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff 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 loved me for real 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, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and envision the guy who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it.
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