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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, 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 common sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might really charge more, especially if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't would like to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method 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. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd marvel how many men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I needed to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, simply a woman, and understanding that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that method. Like a person 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 various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I could speak to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and liked. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my real papa and nearly 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 assist it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his wife. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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