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I even began taking the cash, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of typical sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he might really charge more, particularly 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 'd been doing it for almost two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method excessive for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd marvel the number of men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I needed to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men spending for me desired a lady, simply a girl, and understanding that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real 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 males liked 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 method. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't harm 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I could talk with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his partner. We 'd done whatever but skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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