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I even started taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of typical 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he could really charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Way 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 ludicrous, however you 'd be stunned how many guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't harming anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them liked 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, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and liked. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. I was falling in love, in grown-up 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 but skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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