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I even began taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of typical 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 lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he could really charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege 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 additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be shocked how many guys wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me desired a lady, just a girl, and understanding that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting 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 girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and envision the guy who was making love to me actually was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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