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I even started taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could really charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method 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. Picking me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised the number of people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, however that had actually gone away when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men loved me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal 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 lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who loved me would not hurt me, you understand? I loved my father. That had altered too and I don't understand if one thing related to the other precisely, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which troubled me in the beginning, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I might talk with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. However I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child however as his partner. We 'd done everything however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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