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I even started taking the cash, mostly 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 girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he could in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege 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 currently, and I 'd misplaced how many guys I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money 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 two. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd marvel the number of guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the tips that truly flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms 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 given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
The males liked 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 because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that method. Like a person who liked me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I was in love with my father. That had changed too and I don't understand if one thing 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. Some of them wished to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at initially, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could speak with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and special and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my real dad and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. However I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child but as his other half. We 'd done everything however skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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