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I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do. I hadn't been a little woman in a long time. I just worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, since I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he might really charge more, specifically if the man I was opting for chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid somebody would see me entering a weird cars and truck, a various weird vehicle each time, and question what was going on.

Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be stunned how lots of guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.

The men 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 lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring 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 girl next door perhaps.

I could close my eyes and envision the male who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.

 

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