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I even started taking the money, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could really charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be shocked how lots of guys desired 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 dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real 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 due to the fact that I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many 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 girl next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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