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I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd be surprised how many guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to draw 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 mostly. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these guys for an hour or more. I needed to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a female, simply a woman, and knowing that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The men 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that 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 injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.
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