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I even began taking the money, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way 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 girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, considering that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing since he might really charge more, particularly if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly scared someone would see me getting into a odd vehicle, a different odd car whenever, and question what was going on.
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 thought was outrageous, however you 'd be shocked how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need 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 really like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, just a lady, and understanding that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine 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.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you know? 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 desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and imagine the male who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it.
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