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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the typical 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 silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he might really charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of how many men I 'd had sex with. I didn't want to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Selecting me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd marvel the number of men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the tips that actually flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk 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 given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
The males liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who enjoyed 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 lady next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I could speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real dad and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his other half. 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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