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I even began taking the money, primarily because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little woman in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could actually charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't would like to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal 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 extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd marvel how many men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, however that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and live 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 because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who liked me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and loved. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. However I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his child but as his better half. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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