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I even started taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of typical 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 woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage 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 thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be stunned how lots of men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the tips that really flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, however that had gone away when I understood I wasn't hurting anyone. The men loved me for a bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return 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 lonesome since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't 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 different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and envision the guy 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 grown-up and special and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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