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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be stunned how lots of people desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy'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 tips that actually flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, 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. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, simply a woman, 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 skill for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a person who loved me would not hurt me, you understand? 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 woman next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I could talk with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and loved. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his child however as his partner. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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