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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he might really charge more, especially if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be shocked how many guys wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to in fact like these men for an hour or more. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a female, just a lady, and understanding that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it. I had a skill for the sex things 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 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a person who liked me wouldn't harm me, you know? 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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