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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
I only worked three or four nights a week anyway, considering that I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he could actually charge more, particularly if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was constantly scared someone would see me getting into a odd car, a various strange vehicle each time, and wonder what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be shocked how many men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the tips that truly flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl perhaps 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 loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 due to the fact that I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a guy who liked me would not harm me, you know? 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 desired to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I might talk with him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real father and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child but as his partner. We 'd done everything however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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