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I even started taking the money, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he could really charge more, particularly if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Picking me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, however you 'd marvel the number of guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
The males enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real 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 lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them desiring 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 woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and envision the guy who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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