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I even started taking the cash, primarily since I was much too practical 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 ridiculous things that little girls do. I hadn't been a little girl 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 guy 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 actually like it.

I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be surprised the number of guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.

Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty initially, but that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal with them. However they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I loved my dad. That had altered too and I don't know if something involved the other specifically, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, the majority of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at initially, however then it didn't and I began liking it.

I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child but as his partner. 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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