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I even started taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common 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 hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he could actually 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 nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced how many guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method 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. Picking me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, however you 'd be surprised the number of guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the pointers that actually flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 lonely since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you know? I loved my papa. That had actually changed too and I do not understand if one thing related to the other exactly, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at initially, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I might speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my real papa and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child however 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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