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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't 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 ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, specifically 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 actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money 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. Choosing me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd marvel how many people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. However that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that 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 possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, just a girl, and knowing that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The males enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 due to the fact that I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a guy who loved me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them desiring 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 actually was my father. I could talk with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his wife. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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