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I even began taking the cash, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do. I hadn't been a little girl in a long time. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he might actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.

I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way excessive 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 believed was absurd, but you 'd be surprised how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really 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; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.

The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for genuine and asked me if I 'd wed 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not injure me, you understand? I was in love with my father. That had actually changed too and I don't know if one thing related to the other exactly, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty men or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished 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 initially, but then it didn't and I began liking it.

I could close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me really was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.

 

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