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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have actually 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 girls do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he could in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how many people wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The men liked 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a man who enjoyed 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the male who was making love to me really was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it.
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