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I even began taking the cash, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret 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 ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he might in fact charge more, specifically 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 truly like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be surprised how numerous people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these people for an hour or more. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, just a lady, and understanding that I truly 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 stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The males loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you understand? I was in love with my father. That had actually changed too and I don't understand if one thing involved the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty men 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 different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at initially, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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