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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed 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 regret 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 just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he might really charge more, especially if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be shocked how many men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the tips that really flushed my savings account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because 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. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these men for an hour or more. I needed to act more youthful often too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, just a woman, and knowing that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
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 lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who loved me would not harm 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could speak to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and loved. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine father and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it. It was set into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his spouse. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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