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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not 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 ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, especially if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be stunned how many people wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the pointers that truly flushed my savings account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transportation 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 inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. However that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, just a lady, and knowing that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff 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 enjoyed 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who liked me would not harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might speak to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my real father and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it. It was set into me, growing up not as his child however as his spouse. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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