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I even began taking the cash, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do. I had not been a little woman in a long time. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he might actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.

I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of men I 'd had sex with. I didn't would like to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way too much 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. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd marvel how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the ideas that really flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.

Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty initially, however that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't harming anybody. The men enjoyed me for a 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 lonely because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I loved my father. That had altered too and I don't understand if something had to do with the other precisely, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I started liking it.

I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to think 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 more prior to. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, maturing 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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