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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mainly because 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd had sex with. I didn't want to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method 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 two. Selecting me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised the number of guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.
The men enjoyed 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 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 really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child however as his better half. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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