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I even started taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do. I had not been a little lady in a long time. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing since he could in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.

Way 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 absurd, however you 'd be stunned how lots of guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated 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 bought my clothing and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I needed to act younger often too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, just a girl, and knowing 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 loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for genuine 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a person who liked me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.

I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might speak with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine daddy and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his other half. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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