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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. But then, if I had the common sense I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do. I hadn't been a little woman in a long period of time though. I just worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he might in fact charge more, particularly if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was constantly scared someone would see me getting into a unusual vehicle, a different unusual car every time, and question what was going on.

I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't wish to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot 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. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd marvel how many guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of money to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these people for an hour or more. I needed to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, simply a girl, and knowing that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.

The guys enjoyed 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 since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them wanting 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 lady next door possibly.

I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk with him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine father and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his wife. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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