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I even began taking the money, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt 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 ridiculous 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 good thing because he might really charge more, specifically if the person 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.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of people I 'd made love with. I didn't would like to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how many people wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real 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 since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I might speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine daddy and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child but as his better half. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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