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I even started taking the money, mostly since I was much too useful 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little lady in a long period of time though.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, considering that I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he said that was a advantage since he might really charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always afraid somebody would see me entering into a odd cars and truck, a different weird cars and truck each time, and wonder 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 additional 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be surprised how lots of men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the suggestions that actually flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. However that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I needed to act more youthful often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, just a lady, and knowing that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I recognized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some 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 lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who enjoyed me would not harm me, you know? I was in love with my daddy. That had altered too and I don't understand if something pertained to the other specifically, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I might speak to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and unique and liked. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. But I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his child however as his wife. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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