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I even started taking the money, mainly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the method of typical 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 women do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he might really charge more, particularly if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Way 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 two. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd marvel the number of guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I require 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 guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine papa and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his child however as his better half. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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