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I even began taking the money, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of typical sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, because I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could actually charge more, especially if the person I was opting for selected me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it. I was always afraid someone would see me getting into a odd vehicle, a various strange cars and truck every time, and question what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be stunned how many guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said 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 purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe 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 actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, however that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although a few of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return 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 due to the fact that I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people 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 child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and picture the guy who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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