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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. But then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little woman in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he might in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity 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. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many men wanted 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 mostly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the tips that really flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms 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. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I needed to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, simply a girl, and knowing that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real 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 loved 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 since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a guy who liked me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people 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 possibly.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could speak to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine dad and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child however as his spouse. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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