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I even started taking the cash, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common 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 girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he might really charge more, especially if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd misplaced how many people I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash 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 was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how many men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for genuine and asked me if I 'd marry 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 knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who loved me would not harm me, you know? I was in love with my papa. That had altered too and I don't know if something had to do with the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty men or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which bothered me in the beginning, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the male who was making love to me actually was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.
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