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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the typical sense 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 women do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time though.
I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyhow, considering that I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he might actually charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering into a weird car, a various weird car whenever, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of men I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Way 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 2. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd marvel the number of guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 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 really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I could speak with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to believe 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 two prior to. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child however as his better half. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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