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I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt 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 silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he could really charge more, particularly if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how lots of people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these men for an hour or more. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me desired a lady, simply a woman, and understanding that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I was in love with my papa. That had changed too and I do not understand if something involved the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 woman next door maybe. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which bothered me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more 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 but as his other half. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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