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I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of typical sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could really charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be stunned how numerous guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the tips that actually flushed my checking account. Deke provided 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 clothing and the stuff I require 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. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to in fact like these people for an hour or 2. I needed to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a lady, simply a woman, and understanding that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, however that had actually disappeared when I understood I wasn't harming anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and live with them. But 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 understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I loved my father. That had changed too and I do not understand if one thing related to the other specifically, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me initially, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I could talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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