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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. However then, if I had the sound judgment I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method 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. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these guys for an hour or more. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, just a lady, and knowing that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 short 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 more secure that method. Like a man who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and liked. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine father and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his wife. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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