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I even started taking the money, mostly because 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he might in fact charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd made love with. I didn't wish to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Picking me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised the number of people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the suggestions that really flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my advertising 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 inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, however that had gone away when I realized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and cope with them. But they were in love with who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I knew 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 know? 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 girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and unique and loved. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine father and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child but as his better half. We 'd done whatever but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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