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I even began taking the money, primarily since I was much too useful 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he could really charge more, especially if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage 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. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised how numerous men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. 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 condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little lady maybe 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 truly guilty at first, but that had gone away when I realized I wasn't harming anyone. The men loved me for a bit, although a few of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and cope with them. However 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 because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who liked me would not injure me, you understand? 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I could speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real father and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. However I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child but as his spouse. We 'd done everything however practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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