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I even began taking the money, primarily because I was much too useful 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do. I hadn't been a little girl in a long time. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.

Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be stunned how numerous men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the pointers that truly flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never 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 loved 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 short 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, primarily I felt a little safer that method. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.

I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could speak to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and loved. And someplace, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child but as his spouse. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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