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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the money, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. However 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 silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he might really charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way 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. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised the number of people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to in fact like these people for an hour or more. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men paying for me desired a female, just a lady, and understanding that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyhow, 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 loved 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 knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who loved 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child but as his better half. 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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