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I even began taking the cash, primarily because 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 women do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he might actually charge more, especially if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months currently, and I 'd misplaced the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, however it had 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 2. Picking me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be surprised the number of men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The males liked 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 because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I was in love with my dad. That had actually changed too and I don't know if something had to do with the other specifically, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, the majority of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at initially, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and think of the male who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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