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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the money, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of sound judgment. 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he could in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be shocked how many men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the tips that actually flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to really like these men for an hour or more. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, simply a lady, and knowing that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent 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 males 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 because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who loved me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 daughter'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 dad. I might speak with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and liked. And someplace, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine father and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 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 daughter however as his other half. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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