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I even started taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method 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 woman in a long time.
I just worked three or four nights a week anyhow, given that I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing since he might actually charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering into a unusual automobile, a different odd vehicle each time, and question what was going on.
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 believed was absurd, but you 'd be surprised how lots of men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, just a woman, and knowing that I really was simply 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 things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and deal 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 since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you know? I loved my daddy. That had altered too and I do not understand if something had to do with the other precisely, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty people 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 child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at initially, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I could 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 could not help it.
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