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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 simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way too much 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. Selecting me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel the number of guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the pointers that really flushed my bank 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 person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, however that had actually gone away when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. 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 come back to their cities and deal 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 due to the fact that I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who loved me would not injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and picture the male who was making love to me really was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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