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I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time though.
I just worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, considering that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he could actually charge more, especially if the person 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 actually like it. I was always scared somebody would see me getting into a weird car, a various odd vehicle whenever, and question what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be shocked how many people desired precisely 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 daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the tips that really flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require 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 because I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, but that had actually disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anyone. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and cope with them. 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 lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a person who liked me wouldn't harm me, you know? I loved my papa. That had actually changed too and I do not know if something had to do with the other precisely, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty men or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter'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 initially, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
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 enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his partner. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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