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I even started taking the money, mostly since I was much too practical 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do. I hadn't been a little girl in a long time. I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyhow, since I had 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 idea because he could in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was choosing chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always afraid somebody would see me getting into a odd automobile, a different odd automobile whenever, and question what was going on.

I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money 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 2. Picking me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd marvel the number of people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these guys for an hour or more. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a lady, 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 anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.

Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and live with them. However they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.

I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I might speak with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real dad and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. However I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his partner. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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