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I even started taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt 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 silly things that little ladies do.
I had not 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, especially if the person 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 outrageous, but you 'd be shocked how numerous guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, just a woman, and knowing that I truly was simply 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 much better I got.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that method. Like a guy who loved me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them desiring 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 perhaps.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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