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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing since he might actually charge more, particularly if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how many men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these men for an hour or 2. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men spending for me desired a female, simply a lady, and knowing that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The males liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 man who liked me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 girl next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the guy who was making love to me really was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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