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I even began taking the cash, mainly since I was much too useful 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 girls do. I hadn't been a little woman in a long time. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing because he might in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.

Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be stunned how many people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps 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 whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had actually gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although a few of them loved me for real 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 lonely 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 person who loved me would not hurt me, you know? I loved my daddy. That had changed too and I do not understand if something pertained to the other exactly, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 girl next door perhaps. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which bothered me initially, but then it didn't and I started liking it.

I could close my eyes and envision the guy who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.

 

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