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I even began taking the money, mostly because 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
I just worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, since I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good idea because he might really charge more, especially if the person I was opting for picked me up at school. That benefit ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering a strange car, a different unusual vehicle whenever, and question what was going on.
Method 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 surprised how many men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
The males enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine 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 due to the fact that I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not harm me, you understand? I was in love with my papa. That had actually changed too and I do not know if one thing pertained to the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, the majority of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I could talk with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and loved. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real father and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child but as his better half. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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