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I even began taking the cash, mostly 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he might actually charge more, specifically if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of people I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash 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 two. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd marvel how many men wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these men for an hour or more. I needed to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a lady, just a girl, and knowing that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The guys loved 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could speak with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real father and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child but as his better half. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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