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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mainly since 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.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could really charge more, especially if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually 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, but you 'd be surprised how many people wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. However that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to really like these people for an hour or two. I needed to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a female, just a woman, and knowing that I truly 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 things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could talk with him, inform him I liked 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 papa and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. But I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child but as his spouse. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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