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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. But then, if I had the good sense I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might really charge more, especially if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd be shocked how numerous people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the ideas that truly flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require 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 had to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, just a woman, and knowing that I really 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 things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The males loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys 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 woman next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and loved. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine dad and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. But I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his other half. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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