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I even started taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way 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 woman in a long time. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.

I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of guys I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Method 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. Picking me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd marvel how many men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the suggestions that truly flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms 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. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, just a woman, and understanding that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.

The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for genuine 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who liked me would not injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 woman next door possibly.

I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I could talk with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my real dad and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. However I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child but as his spouse. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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