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I even started taking the money, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing since he could in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised how lots of people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to in fact like these people for an hour or more. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men spending for me desired a lady, simply a girl, and knowing that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The guys enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine 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 lonely because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who loved me would not injure 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 desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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