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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he could actually charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, however you 'd be surprised how lots of people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however 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 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 knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and envision the guy who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I loved 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 assist it.
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