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I even started taking the cash, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he might really charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly 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 believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be stunned how numerous men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. However that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to in fact like these men for an hour or more. I needed to act younger often too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, simply a woman, and knowing that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had gone away when I recognized I wasn't harming anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and deal with them. But they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not harm me, you understand? I was in love with my father. That had changed too and I do not understand if something pertained to the other specifically, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people 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 various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman 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 began liking it.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might speak with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. 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 but as his partner. We 'd done whatever however skilled our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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