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I even began taking the money, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of typical sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he could actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be stunned how many guys wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of money to invest and it was the ideas that actually flushed my savings account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics 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. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to really like these men for an hour or more. I needed to act younger often too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a female, just a lady, and understanding that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The males liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed 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 really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who enjoyed me would not hurt 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 child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could speak to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and loved. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real dad and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his child but as his wife. We 'd done whatever but consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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