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I even began taking the cash, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of typical sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, considering that I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good idea due to the fact that he could really charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly scared someone would see me entering into a strange car, a different unusual vehicle each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd be stunned how lots of men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I needed to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, just a lady, and understanding that I really was simply 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 males loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real 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 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 truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could speak to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child but as his wife. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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