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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. But then, if I had the common sense I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he might in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd be shocked how numerous guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The guys liked 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 knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring 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 could close my eyes and envision the guy who was making love to me really was my dad. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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