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I even started taking the money, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret 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 had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he might really charge more, specifically if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd be shocked how many people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the suggestions that really flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, however that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and live with them. However they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who loved me would not hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine father and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his child but as his wife. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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