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I even began taking the money, mostly because 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a very long time though.
I just worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, given that I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he might actually charge more, particularly if the person I was choosing picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly scared someone would see me getting into a strange cars and truck, a different odd vehicle each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way 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 thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how many guys wanted 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 guys too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the tips that actually flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased 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 real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I needed to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me desired 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 genuine talent for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The guys enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for genuine and asked me if I 'd wed 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, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I could speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his child however as his wife. We 'd done everything however skilled our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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