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I even started taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
I just worked three or four nights a week anyway, because I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he might actually charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared somebody would see me entering a odd vehicle, a different weird cars and truck every time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be shocked how lots of people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think 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 really guilty at first, but that had gone away when I realized I wasn't harming anyone. The men loved me for a bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal 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 because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a guy who loved me would not hurt me, you understand? I was in love with my daddy. That had changed too and I don't understand if one thing had to do with the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty men or something, the majority of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at first, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and unique and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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