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I even started taking the money, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might actually charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd be stunned how numerous men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
The guys liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for genuine 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 since I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who loved me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many 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 lady next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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