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I even started taking the cash, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of typical 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 ladies do.
I had not been a little lady in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he could in fact charge more, particularly if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be stunned how numerous guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, but that had gone away when I realized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back 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 due to the fact that I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the male who was making love to me really was my papa. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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