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I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do. I had not been a little lady in a long time though. I only worked three or four nights a week anyhow, considering that I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he could actually charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me getting into a weird car, a various weird vehicle whenever, and question what was going on.

Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be stunned how numerous people wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these men for an hour or 2. I needed to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, simply a woman, and understanding that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.

Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty initially, but that had gone away when I recognized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and live with them. However 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 since I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.

I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his wife. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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