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I even started taking the cash, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he might really charge more, specifically if the guy 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 really like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money 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 two. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often 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 skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, however that had gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return 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 because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I loved my father. That had actually altered too and I don't understand if one thing involved the other precisely, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at first, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I might speak to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and liked. And someplace, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real papa and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child but as his other half. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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