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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 guilt get in the way of typical 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 girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he could really charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash 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. Selecting me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd marvel how many guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these guys for an hour or more. I needed to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, simply a woman, and understanding that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The males liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry 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 truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a man who liked me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting 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 possibly.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could talk with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and liked. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to believe 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 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 child however as his partner. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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