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I even began taking the cash, primarily since 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 had not been a little girl in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he might really charge more, especially if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be shocked how numerous men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a great deal of cash to invest and it was the tips that actually flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms 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. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to actually like these men for an hour or more. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, just a woman, and knowing that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return to their cities and live with them. However 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 knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't injure 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 desired to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and enjoyed. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my real dad and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child however as his better half. We 'd done whatever however skilled our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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