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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. However then, if I had the sound judgment I wouldn't 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 ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
I just worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, because I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he said that was a advantage due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared someone would see me getting into a weird car, a various strange car each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how many guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a great deal of money to invest and it was the pointers that truly flushed my savings account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing 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. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who loved me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring 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 woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I might talk with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and practically 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 could not help it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his better half. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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