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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. But then, if I had the good 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 ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he might in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly 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 believed was absurd, but you 'd be stunned how lots of people desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the tips that really flushed my checking account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics 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. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever 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, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person 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 child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and think of the male who was making love to me actually was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it.
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