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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. But then, if I had the sound judgment I would not 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 though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege 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 lost track of the number of guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot 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 two. Selecting me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd marvel the number of guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said 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 purchased my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
The males 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 lonely because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people 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 perhaps.
I could close my eyes and picture the guy 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 special and grown-up and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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