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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. But then, if I had the sound judgment I would not 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 silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could really charge more, especially if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd made love with. I didn't wish to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method too much 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. Selecting me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be surprised the number of men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these men for an hour or more. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, just a girl, and understanding that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most 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 lady next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might speak with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and liked. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my real papa and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child however as his wife. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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