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I even began taking the cash, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way excessive 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. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd marvel the number of people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the ideas that actually flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising 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. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, however that had gone away when I recognized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back 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 lonesome since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that method. Like a man who liked me would not harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me really was my daddy. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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