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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. But 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced the number of men I 'd had sex with. I didn't want to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Picking me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the ideas that truly flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes 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. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real 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 lonesome since I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a guy who loved me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child but as his spouse. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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