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I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of common 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 hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might actually charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage 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. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be surprised how many guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the ideas that really flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased 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 tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The guys enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real 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 because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I loved my dad. That had actually altered too and I don't understand if something had to do with the other specifically, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and envision the guy 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 unique and full-grown and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it.
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