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I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common 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 had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he could actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised how many people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't harm me, you understand? 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 wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and picture the guy who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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