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I even started taking the money, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common 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 ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, especially if the person 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 really like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't would like to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method 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. Selecting me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd marvel how many men wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The guys 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who loved me wouldn't injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and picture the guy who was making love to me actually was my dad. I might talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it.
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