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I even began taking the money, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt 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 ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great 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 really like it.
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 ridiculous, however you 'd be stunned how lots of guys desired exactly 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 people too, like my papa's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the tips that truly flushed my checking account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
The males enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real 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 lonesome since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you know? I was in love with my father. That had changed too and I don't understand if something involved the other specifically, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me in the beginning, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and developed and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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