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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, 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 great thing due to the fact that he might really 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 additional, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be shocked how many men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of cash to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes 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 inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The males liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I could talk with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his spouse. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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