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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, 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 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he could in fact charge more, particularly if the guy 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 actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many men I 'd had sex with. I didn't would like to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel how many men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to in fact like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a female, just a girl, and knowing that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a person who loved me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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