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I even began taking the cash, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common sense. I would have been simply 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 girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might in fact charge more, particularly 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.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd be shocked how many men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, just a girl, and knowing that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty initially, however that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return 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 knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I was in love with my dad. That had changed too and I do not understand if something had to do with the other specifically, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, the majority 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 lady next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at initially, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and envision the guy who was making love to me truly was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.
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