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I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of typical sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be stunned how many men desired exactly that. Like it showed 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 primarily. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the ideas that really flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these guys for an hour or two. I needed to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a lady, just a girl, 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 talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine 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 understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you understand? I loved my daddy. That had actually changed too and I don't know if one thing related to the other exactly, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, the majority of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which bothered me in the beginning, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and envision the male who was making love to me really was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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