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I even started taking the money, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common 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 hadn't been a little lady in a long period of time though. I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyhow, considering that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing since he could actually charge more, particularly if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me entering into a weird automobile, a different odd cars and truck every time, and question what was going on.

I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd made love with. I didn't would like to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal 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 additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised the number of men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.

The males loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for genuine 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 understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who liked me wouldn't injure me, you know? I was in love with my father. That had altered too and I don't know if something had to do with the other specifically, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them wanting 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 possibly. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which bothered me in the beginning, however then it didn't and I started liking it.

I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I might talk with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child but as his better half. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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