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I even started taking the money, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of typical sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he might actually charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be surprised how lots of guys wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of cash to invest and it was the ideas that actually flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics 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 because I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, but that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't harming anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although a few of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and cope 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 due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys 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 child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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