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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not 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 woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might really charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal 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. Picking me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd marvel the number of people desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys 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 maybe.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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