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I even started taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyhow, since I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he could actually charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always afraid somebody would see me entering a unusual vehicle, a various weird cars and truck each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men 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 manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. However that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, just a lady, and knowing that I really 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 skill for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people 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 lady next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I might talk with him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine daddy and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child but as his better half. We 'd done whatever however skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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