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I even started taking the money, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of typical 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 girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he could in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity 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 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of men I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method 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 two. Selecting me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be surprised how many guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap 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 more youthful often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 lonely because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that method. Like a man who enjoyed me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I could speak to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child however as his spouse. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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