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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought 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 good sense. But 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a very long time though.
I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, especially 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 entering into a weird vehicle, a various odd automobile each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be shocked how lots of guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to in fact like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, just a girl, and knowing that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a skill for the sex things 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 enjoyed 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 due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person 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 various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and picture the guy who was making love to me actually was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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