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I even started taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of typical 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 had not been a little woman in a long period of time though. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.

I 'd been doing it for practically two months currently, and I 'd misplaced how many guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't want to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method 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 2. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd marvel how many men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.

The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 due to the fact that I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who enjoyed me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them desiring 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 envision the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I might talk with him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and developed and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child but as his other half. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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