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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the typical 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 ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time though.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he might really charge more, especially if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always afraid somebody would see me entering into a unusual cars and truck, a different unusual car each time, and question what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how lots of men desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the ideas that actually flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The males enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for genuine 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 lonely since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted 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 think of the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and unique and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child however as his better half. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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