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I even started taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he could in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be surprised how lots of people desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to suck 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. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. However that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to really like these guys for an hour or more. I needed to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a female, just a lady, and understanding that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal 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 lonely due to the fact that I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who loved me would not harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most 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 girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I might speak with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child but as his better half. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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