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I even began taking the money, primarily 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 just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little woman in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he might really charge more, especially if the guy 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 really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be shocked how many guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the pointers that actually flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising 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 inform 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 people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who liked me would not hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was set into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his wife. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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