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I even started taking the cash, 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he could really 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.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how numerous men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a great deal of money to invest and it was the tips that actually flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I needed to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a woman, simply a girl, and knowing that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 guy who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I loved my dad. That had changed too and I do not understand if one thing had to do with the other exactly, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.
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