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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
I only worked three or four nights a week anyhow, since I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly scared someone would see me entering into a odd cars and truck, a various strange automobile each time, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot 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 two. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd marvel how many people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who liked me would not hurt me, you know? 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 various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could speak with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. And someplace, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine daddy and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child however as his wife. We 'd done whatever however skilled our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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