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I even began taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt 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 ridiculous things that little women do. I hadn't been a little woman in a long time though. I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, since I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he could in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always scared someone would see me entering into a unusual vehicle, a various strange cars and truck each time, and wonder what was going on.

I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way 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. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised the number of men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, 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 mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.

The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.

I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it.

 

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