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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. But then, if I had the sound judgment 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 lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could actually charge more, particularly if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't wish to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way 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. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be surprised the number of people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of cash to spend and it was the ideas that truly flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms 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 since I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a guy who liked me would not injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them wanting 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 lady next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and loved. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real papa and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his wife. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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