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I even began taking the money, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of typical 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 had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he could in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
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 ludicrous, but you 'd be stunned how numerous guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a female, just a lady, and understanding that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The guys enjoyed 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 really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who liked me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many 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 girl next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real papa and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. However I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his child but as his better half. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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