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I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the method 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
I just worked three or four nights a week anyhow, because I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, specifically if the person I was choosing selected me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared somebody would see me getting into a strange vehicle, a different weird cars and truck each time, and wonder what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash 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. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how many guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore 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 mainly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, but that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed 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 since I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who loved me would not injure me, you know? 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child however as his other half. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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