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I even began taking the money, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way 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 hadn't been a little woman in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he could in fact charge more, especially if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be shocked how numerous men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these men for an hour or more. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a lady, just a lady, and understanding that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent 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.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, however that had gone away when I realized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although a few of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and cope 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 lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most 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 woman next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could speak with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his spouse. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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