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I even began taking the cash, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of common 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 girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
I just worked three or four nights a week anyway, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he might actually charge more, especially if the guy I was choosing selected me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly scared somebody would see me getting into a strange car, a various odd car every time, and wonder what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be shocked how lots of men desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, but that had actually gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring 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 a minimum of come back 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 lonesome because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly 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, 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 lady next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and liked. And someplace, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his better half. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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