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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't wish to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash 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 two. Selecting me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd marvel the number of men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the tips that actually flushed my savings account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. However that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I needed to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, simply a lady, and knowing that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for genuine 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 because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my real father and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. But I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child however as his better half. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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