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I even started taking the cash, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret 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 hadn't been a little lady in a long time. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked 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 currently, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way excessive 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. Choosing me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be surprised how many guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . 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 due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things 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 actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.

The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine 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 lonely since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't injure me, you know? 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 desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.

I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I could talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine dad and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child however as his spouse. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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