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I even began taking the money, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months already, and I 'd misplaced how many people I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash 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 deserved an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be surprised how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk 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 often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The males loved 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 lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who loved me would not injure me, you know? 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 wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and developed and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real father and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child however as his partner. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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