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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. But then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been just 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 though.
I just worked three or four nights a week anyhow, because I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he could in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it. I was always afraid somebody would see me getting into a unusual cars and truck, a various unusual automobile whenever, and question what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised how many men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. However that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these people for an hour or more. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a female, just a woman, and knowing that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe 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 better I got.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who liked me would not harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them wanting 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 maybe.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my real papa and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. 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 child but as his partner. We 'd done whatever but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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