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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. But then, if I had the good sense I wouldn't 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 ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, specifically if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really 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 additional 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be stunned how lots of guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage 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 primarily. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the pointers that really flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
The guys enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for genuine and asked me if I 'd marry 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 really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many 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 woman next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and developed and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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