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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of sound judgment. 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege 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 two 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 had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Selecting me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd be surprised the number of men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the pointers that actually flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms 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. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men spending for me desired a woman, simply a lady, and knowing that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real 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 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 since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't harm 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and unique and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to think 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 two before. However I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his spouse. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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