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I even began taking the money, mostly since I was much too practical 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of guys I 'd made love with. I didn't would like to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd marvel how many people desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need 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 younger sometimes too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, however that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed 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 lonely because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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