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I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common 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 woman in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
Method 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 thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be stunned how many guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes 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 needed to in fact like these guys for an hour or more. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, simply a woman, and understanding that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who loved me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 woman next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me truly was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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