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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
I just worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he could actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me getting into a weird car, a various unusual vehicle every time, and question what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be shocked how lots of men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of cash to spend and it was the ideas that really flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since 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 need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men spending for me desired a lady, just a lady, and knowing that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the 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 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 knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who loved me would not injure me, you know? 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 various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and liked. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child however as his partner. We 'd done whatever however skilled our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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