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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little woman in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he might really charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be stunned how lots of guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
The guys enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for genuine 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 actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who liked 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 desired to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me truly was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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