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I even started taking the money, mainly due to the fact that 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, since I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was always scared somebody would see me entering into a strange car, a different weird car every time, and wonder what was going on.
Method 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 absurd, however you 'd be shocked how numerous men wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you know? I was in love with my dad. That had changed too and I don't understand if one thing related to the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, the majority 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 girl next door possibly. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me in the beginning, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and envision the guy who was making love to me truly was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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