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I even started taking the money, primarily because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, specifically if the guy 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 actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of men I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Choosing me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd marvel how many men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The guys enjoyed 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 lonesome since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the guy who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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