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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 method of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do. I had not been a little woman in a long time though. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, particularly if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.

I 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd marvel the number of guys wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the suggestions that actually flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought 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 tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, simply a lady, and knowing that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.

The guys enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a person who liked me would not injure 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.

I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might speak to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine papa and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his wife. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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