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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't 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 silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little girl in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing since he could really charge more, particularly if the man I was going with selected 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 cash too. Method excessive for a ninth grader to spend, 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 ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised the number of guys wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't harm 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me really was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it.
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