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I even began taking the cash, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he might actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't wish to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method excessive 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 was worth an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd marvel how many men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the pointers that actually flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require 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. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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