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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. However then, if I had the common 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 women do.
I had not been a little lady in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he could actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't wish to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Way 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 2. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel how many guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms 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 more youthful often too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed 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 truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a man 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 various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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