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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long period of time though.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, because I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he said that was a advantage because he could really charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly afraid somebody would see me getting into a odd automobile, a different weird vehicle every time, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised the number of men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of cash to invest and it was the tips that really flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought 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 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 in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a female, simply a girl, and understanding that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The guys enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 lonely since I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could speak to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine father and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his partner. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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