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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct 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 hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyhow, because I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good idea due to the fact that he could actually charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared somebody would see me getting into a unusual automobile, a different unusual car whenever, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd made love with. I didn't would like to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these guys for an hour or more. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a female, just a woman, and understanding that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The guys enjoyed 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely 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 person who enjoyed me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted 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 think of the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I could talk with him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his better half. We 'd done whatever however skilled our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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