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I even started taking the cash, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of typical sense. 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 hadn't been a little girl in a very long time though.
I only worked three or four nights a week anyhow, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good idea due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly afraid somebody would see me entering into a odd car, a different odd vehicle every time, and question what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how numerous guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to really like these people for an hour or two. I needed to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, simply a lady, and understanding that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The males loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that method. Like a man who liked me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could speak with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and loved. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child however as his spouse. We 'd done whatever however skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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