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I even began taking the cash, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he could in fact charge more, particularly 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.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd had sex with. I didn't need 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 two. Selecting me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised the number of men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my papa'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 representative, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to in fact like these people for an hour or more. I needed to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, simply a woman, and knowing that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe 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 much better I got.
The guys liked 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? 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 child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and developed and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real father and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more 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 spouse. We 'd done whatever but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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