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I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of typical 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he might in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity 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 already, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Method 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 2. Choosing me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be surprised the number of men wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy'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 supervisor, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, just a woman, and understanding that I truly 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 anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, however that had actually gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anybody. The men liked me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and cope with them. However they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I was in love with my dad. That had actually changed too and I do not understand if something had to do with the other exactly, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring 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 woman next door possibly. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which troubled me at first, but 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 daddy. I might speak to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his child however as his better half. We 'd done whatever but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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