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I even began taking the money, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common 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 very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he might really charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
Way 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 believed was outrageous, but you 'd be shocked how lots of guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the tips that actually flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing 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 inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, simply a girl, and understanding that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 lonesome because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that method. Like a man who liked me would not injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many 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 lady next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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