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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of sound judgment. 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 ladies do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he could in fact charge more, particularly if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of guys I 'd made love with. I didn't wish to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be surprised the number of guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. However that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, just a lady, and knowing that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The males loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who liked me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might speak with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and unique and liked. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more 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 daughter but as his wife. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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