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I even began taking the money, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt 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 ladies do. I had not been a little lady in a long time. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he might really charge more, especially if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.

Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be shocked how numerous people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the pointers that actually flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but 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 comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty initially, however that had actually disappeared when I understood I wasn't injuring anybody. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and deal 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, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't injure me, you know? I loved my daddy. That had actually changed too and I don't know if something involved the other exactly, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting 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 woman next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at initially, however then it didn't and I started liking it.

I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might talk with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real papa 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 could not assist it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his spouse. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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