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I even started taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful 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 ridiculous things that little ladies do. I hadn't been a little lady in a long period of time though. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could really 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.

Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be shocked how lots of men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the suggestions that truly flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.

The males enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't harm 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 various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.

I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could talk with him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child but as his better half. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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