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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the money, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
I only worked three or four nights a week anyway, because I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me entering into a weird cars and truck, a different strange car each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be shocked how many guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of cash to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that 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 prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
The males enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 lonely because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a guy who loved me would not hurt me, you understand? 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 different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I could talk with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my real father and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was set into me, growing up not as his child however as his wife. We 'd done whatever however skilled our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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