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I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of typical 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he could really charge more, especially if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity 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 outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how lots of people desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
The males enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed 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 because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I loved my papa. That had actually altered too and I do not know if one thing pertained to the other precisely, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and picture the male who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it.
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