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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 just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he might in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, however you 'd be stunned how lots of guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and live with them. But 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 lonely since I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you know? 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 various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and think of the male who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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