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I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he might actually charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Way 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 ridiculous, but you 'd be shocked how lots of people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, however that had gone away when I realized I wasn't harming anyone. The men liked me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and live with them. But they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not hurt 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 different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine daddy and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was set into me, growing up not as his child however as his spouse. We 'd done everything however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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