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I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months currently, and I 'd misplaced how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Picking me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel how many men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the ideas that really flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and cope 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 due to the fact that I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and developed and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was set into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his other half. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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