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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 practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. However then, if I had the sound judgment I would not 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 silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he might actually charge more, specifically if the person 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. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be shocked how many people wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a female, simply a girl, and understanding that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people 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 woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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