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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, primarily because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. However then, if I had the sound judgment I wouldn't 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 ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he could really charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be stunned how lots of men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to actually like these men for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, simply a woman, and understanding that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The guys liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt 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 various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and picture the male who was making love to me really was my papa. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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