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I even began taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that 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 girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing since he could in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how numerous men desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap 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 men for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The males 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 lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a person who loved me would not hurt me, you understand? 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 wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I might speak to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. But I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his spouse. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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