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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. However then, if I had the good 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 ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he could really charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 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 had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised the number of men desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 lonesome because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who liked me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them wanting 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 woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and envision the guy 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 developed and unique and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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