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I even began taking the money, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little lady in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Method 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 absurd, but you 'd be surprised how many men wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, but that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and cope with them. But they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I was in love with my papa. That had changed too and I don't know if something pertained to the other specifically, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty men or something, the majority 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 woman next door possibly. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which troubled me in the beginning, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child but as his wife. We 'd done whatever however skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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