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I even started taking the money, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, 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 stated that was a great thing because he might in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be shocked how numerous guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. However that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to really like these men for an hour or 2. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, just a lady, and knowing that I actually 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 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 liked 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 lonesome because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't 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 desired to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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