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I even started taking the money, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, given that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he might in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always scared someone would see me entering into a weird vehicle, a different odd car every time, and question what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how numerous men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the pointers that really flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I needed to act younger often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me desired a woman, just a lady, 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 skill for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The guys enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry 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 due to the fact that I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I loved my dad. That had altered too and I don't know if one thing had to do with the other exactly, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, the majority of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and unique and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real father and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his better half. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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