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I even began taking the cash, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of common 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 women do. I hadn't been a little woman in a long time. I just worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, given that I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good idea since he could in fact charge more, particularly if the man I was opting for picked me up at school. That benefit ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was always scared somebody would see me entering a odd vehicle, a different unusual vehicle every time, and wonder what was going on.

I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of people I 'd made love with. I didn't would like to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash 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. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel the number of guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the ideas that actually flushed my savings account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.

The males loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who enjoyed me would not hurt 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 wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.

I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I could speak to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine papa and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child but as his partner. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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