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I even started taking the money, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of typical sense. I would have been just 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 woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might really charge more, specifically if the guy 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 truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of cash to invest and it was the tips that truly flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes 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 considering that I had to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful 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 genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, but that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of 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 since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most 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 picture the guy who was making love to me really was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it.
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