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I even started taking the money, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time though.
I just worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, 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 thing since he could actually charge more, particularly if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me entering a weird vehicle, a various unusual automobile every time, and question what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be surprised how lots of people desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of money to invest and it was the tips that really flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation 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. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The males enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't injure me, you know? 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I could speak to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real father and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his partner. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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