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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 common 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 girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
I just worked three or four nights a week anyhow, because I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he could actually charge more, particularly if the man 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 was constantly afraid somebody would see me entering into a odd automobile, a different unusual cars and truck each time, and wonder what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how lots of men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older people 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 supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The males enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry 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 really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys 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 lady next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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