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I even began taking the money, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long period of time though.
I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyhow, since I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might actually charge more, particularly if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly afraid somebody would see me entering a weird vehicle, a various unusual vehicle each time, and wonder what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal 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. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd marvel the number of guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had actually gone away when I realized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and deal with them. However they loved 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, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who loved me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them desiring 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 woman next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine daddy and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his partner. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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