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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, especially if the man 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.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of men 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. 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 two. Selecting me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel the number of guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.
The guys loved 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't 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 desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it.
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