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I even started taking the money, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way 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 ladies do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he might in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege 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 two months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method too much 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. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, however you 'd marvel how many men wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the ideas that actually flushed my checking account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap 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 because I needed to really like these guys for an hour or two. I needed to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, just a woman, and understanding that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think 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.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't harming anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and cope 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 due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who loved me would not injure me, you understand? I was in love with my daddy. That had altered too and I don't understand if one thing involved the other specifically, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at initially, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might speak with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and loved. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child but as his partner. We 'd done everything however skilled our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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