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I even began taking the money, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common 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 had not been a little woman in a long time.
I just worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, since I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always scared somebody would see me getting into a unusual vehicle, a various odd cars and truck whenever, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months already, and I 'd misplaced how many people I 'd had sex with. I didn't want to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way excessive 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. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd marvel the number of guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased 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 considering that I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. 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 disappeared when I recognized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return to their cities and cope with them. They were in love with 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 actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who loved me would not injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I could speak to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his better half. We 'd done whatever but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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