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I even started taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of typical sense. I would have been simply 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 girl in a long time.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he could really charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared somebody would see me getting into a odd vehicle, a different strange car each time, and wonder what was going on.
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 believed was outrageous, but you 'd be stunned how lots of guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to in fact like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
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 lonely due to the fact that I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them wanting 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 lady next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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