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I even started taking the money, primarily because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt 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 women do. I hadn't been a little lady in a long time. I just worked three or four nights a week anyway, since I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me entering a unusual vehicle, a various unusual automobile whenever, and question what was going on.

Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how many men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap 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 in fact like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent 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 really guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I realized I wasn't harming anybody. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and live with them. But 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 due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.

I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I might talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine dad and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his better half. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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