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I even started taking the money, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of typical sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he could really charge more, particularly if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be shocked how lots of guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the pointers that really flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need 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. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, just a woman, and understanding that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The males loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for genuine and asked me if I 'd marry 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 truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I could speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real father and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his spouse. We 'd done everything however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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