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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. But then, if I had the sound judgment I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, because I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he said that was a advantage since he might in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was choosing picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me getting into a strange automobile, a various strange car whenever, and wonder what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be surprised how many people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real 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 because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might speak to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his child however as his wife. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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