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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't would like to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way 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, however you 'd be surprised how many people desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a great deal of cash to spend and it was the ideas that actually 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 person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing 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. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, simply a girl, and knowing that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The guys 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who liked me wouldn't harm 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 child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could talk with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and special and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his partner. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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