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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. But then, if I had the sound judgment I would not have 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 girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a very long time though.
I only worked three or four nights a week anyhow, considering that I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could really charge more, particularly if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared somebody would see me entering a weird car, a various odd automobile whenever, and wonder what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money 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 two. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised the number of men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the tips that truly flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real 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 since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who loved me would not harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might speak with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine daddy and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his other half. We 'd done everything however skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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