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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. However then, if I had the good sense I would not have 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 hadn't been a little lady in a long time though.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, because I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might really charge more, specifically if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared someone would see me getting into a unusual cars and truck, a different weird automobile every time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be stunned how lots of people desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. However that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these people for an hour or more. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, simply a girl, and understanding that I actually was just 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 better I got.
The guys loved 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't injure me, you know? 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 child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could speak with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my real papa and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was set into me, maturing not as his child however as his better half. 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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