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I even began taking the cash, primarily 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing since he might really charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be stunned how many people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
The guys liked me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a guy who liked me would not harm me, you understand? I loved my dad. That had actually altered too and I don't know if something pertained to the other precisely, 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 child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it.
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