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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. But then, if I had the common sense I would not 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 had not been a little lady in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of guys I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method excessive 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 was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel the number of people desired precisely 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 daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
The men enjoyed 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 lonely since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who loved me would not injure 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and imagine the male who was making love to me really was my daddy. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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