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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the money, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could really charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't wish to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Selecting me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel the number of people wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the pointers that actually flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The guys enjoyed 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I could talk with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and loved. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine papa and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his child but as his wife. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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