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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he could in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen 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 nearly two months currently, and I 'd misplaced how many men I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, however 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. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd marvel the number of guys wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me desired a female, just a woman, and knowing that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The guys liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine 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 because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a person who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting 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 lady next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I could speak with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real father and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his partner. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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