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I even started taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might in fact charge more, especially if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months currently, and I 'd misplaced how many men I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money 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. Choosing me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised the number of people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the ideas that actually flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to really like these men for an hour or more. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, simply a lady, and knowing that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The males loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 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 man who loved me would not injure me, you understand? I was in love with my father. That had changed too and I don't understand if something involved the other specifically, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, most of them wanting 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 perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I could speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and unique and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child however as his wife. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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