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I even started taking the money, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of typical sense. I would have been just 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 girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced how many people I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel how many men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing 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. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The guys liked me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real 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 lonesome since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his spouse. We 'd done whatever but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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