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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. But then, if I had the good 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 ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long period of time though.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, considering that I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly scared someone would see me entering into a odd automobile, a different unusual automobile each time, and question what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be stunned how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of money to invest and it was the tips that really flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing 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 real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me desired a lady, just a girl, and understanding that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyway, 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 loved 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 since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that method. Like a man who liked me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could speak to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and liked. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real father and practically 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 assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child however as his wife. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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