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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not 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 ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he could actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
Method 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 ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised how numerous men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father'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 pointers that actually flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes 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 inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, simply a lady, 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 talent for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyway, 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 loved 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting 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 perhaps.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might speak to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child however as his other half. We 'd done whatever however skilled our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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