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I even started taking the money, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, 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 actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be stunned how numerous men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more often 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 guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. None of the men spending for me desired a female, simply a girl, and knowing that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty initially, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't harming anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal with them. But 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 since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who liked me would not injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting 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 girl next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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