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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the common 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.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he might in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't would like to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method excessive 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. Picking me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, however you 'd marvel how many men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the pointers that actually flushed my checking account. Deke offered 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 man, my marketing and transport 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 tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
The males liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine 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 understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who loved me would not injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most 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 lady next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could speak with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child however as his spouse. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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