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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. But then, if I had the good sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been simply 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 lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he could really charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of guys I 'd made love with. I didn't would like to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Method too much 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. Choosing me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised how many men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill 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 lonely since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who loved me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and imagine the male who was making love to me truly was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it.
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